Nothing comes from nothing revisedexpanded
by Shahrazad63
Summary: The new and hopefully improved version of an old tale of mine. There were so many changes it is almost a completely different story, so I decided to publish it again. The old version will probably be deleted after I am done. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

_**A/N: **__**This story has gone through so much improvement after I first wrote it that it almost became a new one entirely. For that reason only, I decided to publish it again. You will recognize bits and pieces of the old version in the upcoming chapters, but it only served as a basis for this one. It follows the basic main plot of the movie, but there are a few changes and additions. I added a prologue, there are more situations, more characters, more chapters. I hope you like this one better. **_

_**Disclaimer: The usual - I don´t own "The Sound of Music", etc. I am only doing this for fun, no profit intended.**_

_**Have fun!**_

**PROLOGUE - CLIMBING MOUNTAINS**

"_**Nothing happens in vain, but everything for a reason and under necessitation." **_

_**Leuccipus.**_

_**What! the girl I adore by another embraced?  
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?  
What! pressed in the dance by another's man's knee?  
What! panting recline on another than me?  
Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape its fine blue,  
From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous dew;  
What you've touched you may take. **__**Pretty waltzer-adieu!**_

_**Sir Henry Charles Englefield**_

_**Even in our sleep  
Pain which cannot forget  
Falls drop by drop upon the heart  
Until, in our own despair,  
Against our will,  
Comes wisdom  
Through the awful grace of God.**_

_**Aeschylus**_

Captain Georg _Ritter _von Trapp was greeted by a somber atmosphere when he went to Salzburg exactly eleven days after the ball given in honor of Baroness von Schraeder. It wasn't a bright and beautiful day. The rain was falling so happily that the peeling bells could hardly be heard.

In such a day in the middle of what was probably the foulest weather of the season, he had only two reasons to be anywhere else but in the quietness of his study, designing submarines he would never command.

No, he wanted to escape. He needed to.

He was tired of holding his breath, waiting for a sound, almost wishing that it would rob him of his power of concentration. Waiting to hear a voice, a song he had not heard in eleven long days…

Yet, there was another, more practical reason that provided him the right excuse to leave Aigen for a few hours: to buy an outrageously expensive piece of jewelry, an engagement present he intended to give his future wife.

It was decided. Tonight, he would be proposing marriage to Baroness Elsa von Schraeder.

It would be a mere formality, since they had already discussed the subject at length. Meanwhile, Elsa wanted a ring, and he would make certain that she had one. He wanted to make sure that every single, meaningless, little social rule was followed - knew that the tongues were flapping, and for that reason he was going to announce the engagement as soon as possible Gossip about him and the governess had was spreading fast after she had fled Aigen the night of the ball, and the one thing that he did not want was to make it even worse.

No, things would have to be done as formally as possible. Careful planning was essential, and in that he considered himself a master.

Tomorrow morning, he would give the children the news, as early as possible. That family announcement would be soon followed by a brief trip to Vienna, when he would formally ask Elsa's mother for permission to marry her – just another little rule they had to follow. After that, they would pay Agathe´s parents a visit, and communicate the betrothal to them. There would be a formal dinner, probably at Elsa's house in Vienna, where not only her family and his would be in attendance, but also their closest friends and other distinguished members of the old Austrian aristocracy.

The wedding would take place as soon as decently possible, early in the fall. As much as he longed to get married in Aigen, or even in Salzburg, Elsa had already made clear to him that she wanted a big, pompous wedding to be held in the _Stephansdom_. That meant that he and the children would have to move to Vienna for a few weeks, and that would have to happen as soon as they agreed on a date.

It was the right thing to do, the best thing.

It was what was expected of him.

It was decided.

From their graves, generations of von Trapp ancestors should be glowing with pride. He would be doing his duty again, he would be living up to the family name. He already had the blessings not only of Elsa's parents, but most importantly, Agathe´s parents as well. Baroness Schraeder, according to all, was simply the best choice he could make.

The right choice.

The _only_ choice.

Why wasn't he at least satisfied with himself? Why did he find himself cringing when he thought of words such as "formal" and "official" when applied to a betrothal? Why did his stubborn heart refused to be content with what his rational mind had decided?

The formality began with a ring…

Such had been the tradition in the higher classes, ever since the Archduke Maximillian of Austria gave such a token to his bride, Mary of Burgundy. That had happened nearly five hundred years ago, but the tradition remained and it was yet another protocol that had to be observed. Elsa would not want it otherwise. _He_ would not want it otherwise, at least under the circumstances.

However, buying diamonds for Elsa von Schraeder had not been the easy task he had thought it would be at first. He had gifted her with jewelry before – necklaces, earrings and bracelets, but a ring, because of all the symbolism surrounding it, was something much more personal. He found every piece that was brought to him flashy and vulgar, completely unsuited for his bride.

He went cold when he realized the woman he had in mind for the diamond he intended to buy was _not_ Elsa. If he closed his eyes, he would not see the cool and elegant Baroness from Vienna, but certain boisterous young postulant waltzing alone in his ballroom. In the end, he had asked the sales girl at the jeweler's what she would choose if she were the bride, not caring if the woman thought he was flirting with her. He bought the ring suggested by the girl without giving it a second thought – Elsa would love it, he was certain, even if he did not care for it at all.

The thoughts of Maria made him raise his eyes towards Nonnberg´s onion shaped tower, barely visible under the falling rain. His conscience felt unbearably heavy, a feeling that was almost physical, like a tightening in the chest.

Before giving Elsa the ring, before making the announcement to the children, there was something that had to be done first. His conscience would plague him forever if he did not, her image would haunt him for years to come….

There was only one way to avoid all that. He had to go to Nonnberg; he had to talk to the Reverend Mother. Maybe if he did, he would be able to move on towards a future with Elsa. Maybe, just maybe, his heart would finally accept what his mind had decided long ago.

"_I need to know _she_ is all right_," he thought.

He hated to be the cause of anyone's unhappiness, especially Maria's. It had not been her fault that he had so little control over his own hormones and that whatever measure of control he thought he had over his emotions had crumbled when he danced with her. He could not blame her for just being the way she was – utterly enchanting in her innocence.

It would be a crazy thing to do, he knew. Probably irresponsible, considering all the small talk about them. Yet, he had to find out. He had to make sure she was fine, that she _would_ be fine, that she would move on by doing what was expected of her, just as he would try to move on by marrying Elsa.

It was the right thing to do, the best thing.

It was what was expected of him.

It was decided.

The Reverend Mother did not smile when Captain von Trapp entered her study. Her expression was stern, censorial, as cold as he had even seen it. Her tone of voice, when she first spoke, was dismissive, as if it were her intention to end the interview as soon as possible. She did not even invite him to sit down.

Georg could hardly blame her for it.

"Maria will most certainly _not_ see you, Captain von Trapp, if that is the reason why you are here" she informed. "To be absolutely honest, _I_ would not even allow her to see you, not under the circumstances."

"Ehm… What circumstances, Reverend Mother?" He asked tactfully.

He needed to find out exactly how much the Mother Abbess knew before he stated the purpose of his visit. Judging by the woman´s austere face, she had to know something had happened. Her somber expression was not a good sign.

_Maria…_

Something was wrong with Maria. Something was amiss.

The thought weighed heavily in his heart. His chest tightened impossibly and he found it hard to breathe in the cramped, heavily furnished medieval room that was the nun´s study.

"_You idiot,_" he chastised himself. "_How could anything be right with Maria at this moment? Your behavior towards her that night was inexcusably inappropriate. She was desperate enough to forget any concerns about her own safety and leave your house alone, in the middle of the night. If anything happened to her…"_

Maybe the Mother Abbess, in her infinite kindness, noticed his clear distress, because her voice softened.

"Have a seat, Captain. Please."

"Thank you."

"You must forgive my initial rudeness. You know, after a lifetime guiding those girls, one should think that I would learn not to get so involved with their problems, at least not to the point of forgetting my own good manners," she shook her head in distaste.

"There is no harm done, Reverend Mother. I am sure you have your reasons for thinking the worst of me. In all fairness, I would only like to know what they are."

"Very well, it is only fair, I suppose."

For the first time since he entered the room, he let out a sigh of relief. Whatever happened to Maria, whatever was happening to her, the Mother Abbess would tell him. Afterwards, he would find a way to repair the damage. It was as simple as that. He was Captain von Trapp, there was nothing in the world, except for death, that he could not fix! It was as his logical mind worked all his life, and he saw no reason to change it now.

"I will be very blunt and honest with you," the nun began.

"It is all I ask."

"I sent to you one of my dearest postulants. A bit rebellious, I admit, but she was so vibrant and full of life when she left… I sent her to _you_, a highly decorated officer of our glorious Navy, a Knight of the Order of Maria-Theresia, a man who I had _always_ believed to be beyond reproach. At least that I told that girl repeatedly before she left – I chanted your praises in prose and verse, Captain. I spoke to her about what you did for Austria, about the seven wonderful children God blessed you and your wife with. I told her you needed her help to guide those motherless young souls. The _last_ thing in my mind was that she was going to be harmed in any way." She shook her head, gazing upwards. "I cannot believe that have been so wrong about you, Captain. Please tell me I have not."

"Maria was not harmed." He averted her gaze as he said that, her first name coming naturally to his lips. Quite frankly, he had no idea if he was telling the truth.

_Maria wasn´t harmed… was she?_

The Mother Abbess was incredibly perceptive.

"Forgive me, but you do not sound at all convincing."

"I don't know what could possibly have given you the idea that something terrible happened to Maria while she was in my care," he said slowly, carefully, casting her one of his dangerous smirks.

"Captain, please!" The nun sounded almost offended. "From the beginning, I chose not to insult your great intelligence, please do grant me the same privilege. I am not one of your young cadets, your tactics will not work with me." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Clearly, Maria is not the same girl she was when she left this place. Granted, the changed was not abrupt – we noticed it every time she came to visit us for the past few weeks. But when she rang that bell just before dawn, after having walked all the way from Aigen…" She shook her head.

Georg looked steadily at the nun this time, before answering, choosing his words carefully.

"I know what you must be thinking, Reverend Mother. Unfortunately, you are not the only one with that particular suspicion in mind."

"Sadly, I am not!" she exclaimed brusquely.

"I never touched her. I never…" He hesitated before continuing, as the hostile look in the Mother Abbess´s face intensified. "Please, spare me of saying anything further, not in this holy place. All I can do is to give you my word of honor that at least in _one_ aspect, Maria has not changed." The nun still looked at him doubtfully. "Would she have come back to you if your worst fears were proven to be true. Would she?"

To his relief, she finally believed him.

"No, you are right. She would find somewhere else to go, but she would not come to this Abbey, that is for certain." She paused before continuing. "That day when she left, from my window, I saw her running down the steps of the _Nonnberg Stiege _to catch that bus to go to your villa - so fast that I feared for her safety. I could hear her singing from the top of her lungs, something about how confident she was that everything would turn out fine." For the first time, the Reverend Mother smiled, but soon became very serious again. "I felt it, deeply in my heart, that she was _exactly_ what your family needed. I had no doubt that it was what that girl needed."

He shook his head. "I am afraid you were not _completely_ right about that, Reverend Mother..."

"Why not, pray tell me, Captain?"

"She never had a loving family of her own before. How could you expect that she would be able to fix mine?"

Her eyes widened. "Aaahhh. I see. So she did tell you a little about her past."

"Almost nothing, although what she did not tell me was easy to guess."

The nun looked at him, suspiciously.

"_Almost nothing_ is _a lot_ as far as Maria is concerned. Her bluntness has its limits, and by that I mean Maria herself. That girl was always extremely private – secretive, almost – about her life before she came to us." Her hesitation was palpable before she continued. "We are a Benedictine Order, Captain. Although the way we chose to serve the Lord demands that we remain cloistered after taking our vows, we are proud to consider ourselves rather… _liberal_ in some respects. If we were not, I would not even be allowed to receive you, a man, in my study, as you know."

"Yes, I am well aware of that."

"It was not always so. Nowadays I have enough freedom to choose my postulants as I please, but when Maria joined us, however, the Bishop was extremely rigid about what he considered a good candidate for the novitiate. The girls had to be carefully interviewed, their past investigated. Needless to say that it was quite a struggle to go through that endless inquiry with Maria."

He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and it was mirrored in the nun´s face.

"In the end she asked me to skip all the roundabout questions, as she called them, to be direct and ask her what the Bishop wanted to know and she would simply tell him. I did, she answered it, my superiors were happy enough and she became a Nonnberg postulant that very same day. She did all that, she convinced them all, she convinced _Sister Berthe –_ who can be quite formidable, as you may know – all that without saying a word about her past and her upbringing."

"It does not surprise me," he said, smiling.

"Well, it surprised _me_ that she has spoken at all about her past to you. I know she would not have done it if not under extraordinary circumstances."

She leaned forward slightly. The night in the attic flashed in his memory at the speed of light, but with crystal clear clarity (2).

"What happened? What went wrong, Captain? I have a feeling that you are here so that I can help you lift a weight off your conscience – please help me to appease mine as well. If I did wrong by that child by sending her to you, then I must know it too."

"_What happened? What went wrong, Captain?_" the Reverend Mother had asked. He had no clue about where to begin, he could not pinpoint a moment when it all began. He solved the dilemma by speaking about the last time he and Maria had been together.

"There was a party in my house a week ago. My…" he cleared his throat. "A ball in honor of Baroness Elsa von Schraeder, a guest of mine, from Vienna."

"Yes?"

"One dance – that is all there was to it. I - I _dared_ to break protocol and ask my governess to dance." He snorted and shrugged. "I admit it was something I had never done before in my entire life, but I saw no harm in it."

Georg looked at the Reverend Mother quickly. She was giving him his full attention. He smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. She did not return it.

"Go on," she urged. "What was it that brought you to commit such an unspeakably reckless impropriety, Captain?" she asked, with a good dose of sarcasm, something he would never have expected from her.

He chose to stay closer to the truth as possible, giving her the facts, if not the real reason why he had asked Maria to dance. It had been much more than an impulse he could not resist. It had been a promise he had made to himself and to hear a little earlier in the evening – that they would have one dance before the night was over (1). A vow he never expected to fulfill because he simply had no clue about how to do it, until the perfect opportunity presented itself to him and he seized it immediately.

"Kurt." His son´s name escaped his lips, with a sound that was between a chuckle and a sigh of relief. "She was teaching my youngest son an Austrian folk dance. At least she was trying to - she said she hadn´t done it since she was a little girl." His smile was genuine this time. As he remembered the scene he continued his tale, almost distractedly, savoring every little scrap of memory, realizing, only them in the back of his mind, how precious they were, but choosing to convince himself that the children were the only reason.

"Their difference in height made it impossible, of course. She was bent back rather dangerously and that was when I – uh – cut in."

"So, you _waltzed_ with Maria."

"No, it was nothing nearly as… _controversial_ as a waltz," he sneered. "It was merely a Ländler," he smiled sadly.

"Mmmm. Were you two alone?"

"No. We were outside in the terrace, surrounded by my seven children. The doors to the ballroom were open and we were in full view of the other guests. There was nothing – uh – _secretive_ about it. Neither of us was trying to hide anything."

"So you _danced_." She shrugged. "Yes, I see no harm in that. Go on, please," she urged. "There must be something that happened after that."

He shrugged again.

"She had taught the children a good night song to sing for my guests. After they sang, some of them insisted that Maria join us for dinner."

"_Some_ of your guests? Not you, Captain?" He did no answer, but to his utter dismay, he felt his face burn. It was time the nun tried another dose of her brand of sarcasm. "No, of course not! You would not break protocol twice in the same evening, would you?"

He ignored the barb.

"She – uh - she went upstairs to change, but she never came back. When I realized she was gone, it was too late – all that was left was a short note she left behind. It told me that she came back here, to you, because she missed the Abbey too much."

"She left in the middle of the night without saying good bye!" The Reverend Mother exclaimed in awe. "You haven´t known Maria for a long time, and yet you must realize how _unlike_ her that is."

"Of course I do realize that, but it´s the truth. I never saw her again. She did not say goodbye to me or to the children."

"And all that because of a Ländler and a dinner invitation? That was all there was to it?"

He did not answer her.

"You are oversimplifying things too much, Captain. A laconic explanation, even for a military man like you. The Maria I know would not have fled like that just because she danced with a man, not even someone of your station. She would never run from something as menial as an invitation to dinner in an aristocratic household. She is not so easily intimidated. If she were, she would not have lasted a day under your roof, you know that as well as I do. No, no, no, there has to be more to it than that."

"How is she?" he asked eagerly, having decided to cut to the chase. "That is all I wish to know. I _must_ know."

"You _must_ know, Captain?" her eyes narrowed. He did not know what she was thinking, but he had a clue and he did not like it.

"Yes," he replied firmly.

"Frankly, I am not sure. I have not seen her yet since she returned, but I was told by Sister Margaretta that she is hardly eating anything and does not talk, except in prayer." She sighed. "As you understand, I have every right to demand an explanation from you. Had you not come here, I would probably have summoned you, sooner or later."

"You have not seen her yet… Why wasn't she brought to you?" he insisted, slightly irritated now. "Why have you left her alone for so long?"

"Because it was _her choice_," she replied, pointedly.

"With all due respect, Mother, you should not have listened to her," he hissed.

"Captain, Maria _asked_ to be in seclusion – she does not see anyone, not even me. It is her decision, and I must respect it. I have no right to interfere. I cannot force her to do anything against her will, not at this moment. I must wait until she is ready. When that happens, she will come to me, I am sure – she always has before. However, the fact that I have not seen her in person does not prevent me from realizing what is going on."

He shook his head. "Reverend Mother, considering that it is Maria we are talking about, I…"

"Please, Captain, allow me to finish. That girl has an enormous capacity to love. That is why I admitted her into the Abbey in the first place, regardless of her lack of a formal religious education or her somewhat obscure past. When I sent her to you, I _sincerely_ hoped that it would help her to find a way to channel that love. I had _your children_ in mind, Captain, not you. If Maria discovered in the end that she truly lacked religious vocation, I would do my best to help her find an honorable teaching position, maybe even here at our orphanage or in any other of the many Catholic schools around Salzburg. I was not planning to close all doors to her if she decided not to take her vows and become one of us. She would _not_ be abandoned. I respect her too much to allow that to happen."

"Then you should have made that clear to _her_, not to me. Because I don't think that was what she believed." It was his turn to sound censorial. He remembered Maria's despair whenever he started pestering her about her vocation; he remembered that she had all but admitted that she had chosen Nonnberg because she had not other alternative left for her.

"Yes, I erred, but that was not my worst mistake, was it, Captain? I did not foresee what could happen when it was all too obvious. My intention was _not_ to act as a matchmaker in order to rid myself of a problem named Maria. It was the farthest thing from my mind. I always knew you to be a gentleman, but I failed to consider that you were first and foremost a _man_, and that Maria, as young and impressionable as she was, would… How could I have been so careless?" she looked heavenwards, as if praying for forgiveness.

"In any case, I believe I owe you an explanation, Reverend Mother."

"Yes, you do, Captain. I am listening."

"You must believe me when I say that I did not intend for any of this to happen. You are right, you sent her to me, you trusted her to my care, and I… I somehow failed you both."

"_What did you do to her_, Captain?" she asked pointedly.

"Nothing… everything!" The look of alarm in the old nun's urged him to clarify his thoughts. "I came here for two reasons. First to apologize to you. I realize that this has been unforgivable, and if you lost your trust in me, I can't say that I blame you for it. Nevertheless, I beg you to believe me when I tell you that things happened as I told you and that I have _not_ dishonored Maria in any way. I would not have dreamed of harming her. Nor was she harmed by anyone else while in my care, that I can assure you."

"This is quite a relief, Captain. After all, I was wrong about so many things, I could be wrong about that as well. "

"I won't lie to you, I am… uh… I was attracted to her."

"Oh!" was her triumphant moan. "_Attracted_? How so?"

He held her gaze, unflinching – if her intention was to make him cower, he would not let it happen again.

"Is that all there was to it? _Lust,_ Captain?"

To his horror, he felt his face burning again.

"Reverend Mother…"

She never allowed him to defend himself.

"No. It wasn´t just that, was it? It can´t be. To begin with, my Maria, as lovely as she is, is _not_ a raving beauty." He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. "At least not like the women orbiting around you. Not only that, she is far from being sophisticated – she is a tomboy, Captain. A spitfire. Why would you even bother to look at her twice? What is it about her that would catch the attention of a man like you, who moves in the highest social circles?"

He did not answer.

"Tell me; is she in love with you?"

"If she is, how on earth would _she_ know it? She was… she _is_ too vulnerable, much too innocent for her own good. No, she cannot know – she cannot know the difference from lust to love when…"

"… when apparent you, in all your worldliness and experience, cannot," she finished for him. "Isn't that right, Captain von Trapp?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. It can't be undone, can it? What matters is that I could not hurt her and that I _did not_ hurt her!" was his passionate answer. "You know as well as I do that I _could_ have. I am sure these walls do not keep you from knowing exactly how it usually works – a palatial home in Paris or Vienna, a sizeable allowance, lavish parties, jewelry, trips around the world... But it was sickening to think of her like that. She did not deserve this, from me or any other man."

"I see." There was a knowing half smile in her face.

"None of it was her fault. Whatever you say to her when she comes to you, please, I ask of you, do not let her believe that. Do not punish her for that."

"Captain, we live by certain rules and beliefs that demand…"

He stopped her with a gesture. "Allow me to finish, Reverend Mother. Please."

"Very well. You may continue, Captain."

"If we… no, if _I_ have sinned, it was in thought only, and trust me, I am already paying dearly for it. I had absolutely no intention of hurting Maria. I would cut my right arm in order not to hurt her," he added passionately.

"And yet, you did hurt her very, very deeply…" There was a moment of awkward silence.

"I… I just wanted to know if she is all right – I needed to know, it seems that you already answered me."

"Maria as I do I would like to believe that she will overcome this. Although sadly, I don't believe we will ever see that boisterous little tomboy again."

"Is there anything – anything at all – that I could possibly do to… fix things?"

"I also think that you know the answer to that one as well, Captain, you only need to acknowledge it and accept it." She sighed, and then asked abruptly, narrowing her eyes at him. "You are about to be engaged to be married, aren't you? To Baroness von Schraeder, from Vienna."

"How did you know that?"

"News travel fast in these parts, Captain. If the news are even remotely related to one of my charges, I feel under the obligation to find out more."

"I understand… Does Maria know?" He braced himself for her answer.

"No, I don't think she does – she has cut herself from the world completely... Curiously, not unlike you did when your wife died, Captain, so you certainly know what I am talking about." He paled visibly. "Tell me - do you remember what I told you that day when you came to seek my counsel about a governess for your children?"

"Agathe´s roses. Yes, I remember (3)."

"Good. I'll be forthright and I'll spare you of the metaphors this time. Do you love her, Captain?"

_Her?_

He looked at her in utter confusion.

"Do you love _Baroness Schraeder_?"

He looked down at his right hand, where he still wore his wedding ring. His left hand gripped another ring - Elsa´s ring in the left pocket of his jacket.

"I´ve decided. It is the right thing to do," he said distractedly, apologetically.

"Do you love _Maria_?"

"_Yes."_

The word was out of his mouth before his brain registered it. When he realized what he just said, it was already too late. His head shot up, his eyes widened in surprise. Cold sweat bathed his body.

"No!"

He jumped from his chair, punching the old mahogany desk in front of him. The violent gesture startled the Mother Abbess, who rose from her seat as well.

"Captain!"

"_No_. It is not possible, it is… _impossible_!"

He did not say anymore, he could not. Frantically, he shook his head in denial. He started pacing around the Mother Abbess´s austere studio, raking his fingers through his hair, his heavy footsteps echoing in the wooden floor.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

There was too much to think about, too much to consider. It was all too ludicrous, too preposterous, and too…

"_Impossible_," he whispered.

He had always hated clichés, and wondered why, all of suddenly; his life had turned into one. Yet, the answer was all too obvious. It had been obvious for quite some time, but he still feared to acknowledge it.

He rather go ten times through the hell he had had to go through to be decorated by the Emperor than to admit that… He rather fight countless more battles and loose them all…

He rather lose the love of his life again and again…

No, not that. Not if the love of his life was….

It could not be!

"No! This can´t be happening. This can´t be happening to _me_!"

He looked at the Reverend Mother, who was smiling at him openly now, the tension gone from her face.

"_How_ can this be happening to _me_?"

"I am sure you already know the answer to that, Captain von Trapp."

"I have to see her. You _must_ let me see her." The Reverend Mother sighed. "If she thinks I…"

She interrupted him gently.

"Go home, Captain. Go in peace, with my blessings. Home to your children, and to your Baroness. But please, I beg of you – think about what you may just have realized. Think about what I said to you that day months ago before I sent Maria to you and what we talked about today. Think about what you did, and about what you are doing not only to her and to your children, but to yourself. You are a very intelligent man – I am sure that all the answers you are seeking will come to you, and when that happens, you'll know _precisely_ what to do."

Yes, he knew what to do.

He knew damn well _precisely_ what to do when, scarcely two hours later, he was back home, after driving in the rainy roads of the outskirts of Salzburg at an insane speed.

It was Elsa the first person who ran to him, just after he slammed the door of his car shut with such force that the whole vehicle shook.

"Georg, darling, we were worried sick about you. Frau Schmidt just heard on the radio that the roads are in terrible condition because of all this rain and…"

He never allowed her to finish. The need to banish Maria from his thoughts blinded him, bringing him close to despair. There was only one cure for it. Swiftly, he took Elsa in his arms and kissed her. Kissed her, like he never kissed her before, not caring if there was anyone watching them. Deep down, he knew it was his own self loathing, nor passion, that was driving him, not passion, but for a brief, mad moment, his body hardly noticed the difference.

"Oh Georg," Elsa sighed, pliant in his arms, her composure gone. He had never seen her like that, never knew he had the power to render her into such a state. Her lips were bruised, her impeccable coiffure was ruined.

"_Yes, this will do,_" he thought. "_It did not work before only because I loved Agathe and now I love Maria_… _No, I do not!_" His mind shouted his denial.

He could not love her, he should not.

It was impossible.

But there yet was another difference - he had Elsa now, and Elsa, his savior, would make him forget, like no one else could.

"We need to talk," he said breathlessly. "_Now_."

_A/N: __(1) "Austrian Folk Dances I – The Ländler". (2) "In Vino Veritas". (3) "The 12th Governess"._


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**CHAPTER 1**

_**I do not want to make reasons for you to stay, only reasons for you to return.**_

___**Jonivan**_

How could a memory be so hazy, and yet so sharp at the same time?

Sometimes, in her old age, Maria pondered about the question. Was it because those thirteen days she spent at the Abbey after leaving the von Trapp household would always be too painful to remember?

She had never been unhappier in her life. She would never, ever again feel so unhappy. She was hopeless, and it had been only hope for a fulfilling life, a life full of purpose that had been the one thing that had guided her, that had kept her whole until that day.

Now she had nothing at all, she was lost. She did not know what was expected of her, she did not even know what she wanted herself. Well, she did know very well what she wanted, but if she acknowledged that, she would be forced to believe in the impossible, and that was something that she was not yet prepared to do.

She found herself back in the only home she ever knew before she went to live with the von Trapps – Nonnberg Abbey. She was surrounded by loving, holy women whose guidance she had always trusted and treasured, each and every one of them a little bit of mother to her in their many facets… How could they help her now, how could they possibly _know_? He had _touched_ her no matter how innocently, his eyes had burned her – how could she ever be the same? How could those women, who had pledged themselves to the purest, to the holiest of all forms of love, ever understand feelings that were so primitive, carnal, so earthy?

Theresa would help her if she could (1). She would understand her dilemma. However, her postulant friend she was no longer there, she was no longer at Nonnberg Abbey. No, Theresa had been far braver than Maria could possibly be, she had gathered enough strength defied her family who wanted her to become a nun, in spite of her lack of vocation, and had run away with her lover… Yet, even _that_ Maria could do because there was at least one essential and very basic difference. Theresa´s was _loved_ by the one she had chosen over her religious vows. Captain von Trapp, on the other hand, was most probably having a good laugh about the young governess´s silly infatuation with him, sharing a glass of that atrociously expensive champagne he was so fond of with a certain sophisticated Baroness from Vienna… Oh, she could almost hear the sound of their laughter!

No, she could not _bear_ to even think of _him_ anymore. Every single scrap of memory, every fleeting thought that led her to _him_ was excruciatingly painful. She had to avoid it at all costs.

What made matters worse was that she _knew _that she did not belong there at the Abbey anymore, it was no longer her home. That was what a stubborn little voice in the back of her head whispered all the time, when she tried to convince herself otherwise.

The smell of incense and old furniture in the Reverend Mother´s study that had felt so welcoming only weeks before now oppressed her, making it difficult for her to breathe.

The words… those she would never forget. The Reverend Mother guessing the whole truth after only a few stuttered words, saying it aloud, hitting Maria in the chest with the scorching precision of one of the Captain´s deadly torpedoes. Thinking about it, dreaming about it was one thing. Hearing someone else say it was something else entirely, as Maria had began to learn recently, from Baroness Schraeder.

"_Why did they send you back to us?"_

_"They didn't send me back, Mother, I - I left."_

_"Sit down, Maria. Tell me what happened."_

"_Well, I - I was frightened."_

_"Frightened? Were they unkind to you?"_

_"Oh, no! No, I__ - I was - I was confused. I - I felt… Oh, I've never felt that way before. I couldn't stay. I knew that here I'd be away from it. I'd be… safe."_

_'Maria, our Abbey is not to be used as an escape. What is it  
you can't face?"_

_"I can't face him again."_

_"Captain Von Trapp? Are you in love with him?"_

_"I don't know! The Baroness said I was. She - she said  
that he was in love with me, but I-I didn't want to believe it. Oh, there were times when we would look at each other. Oh Mother, I could hardly  
breathe."_

"_Did you let him see how you felt?"_

_"If I did, I didn't know it. That's what's been torturing me. I was there on God's errand. To have asked for his love would have been wrong. Oh, I couldn't stay, I just couldn't. I'm ready at this moment to take my vows. Please help me."_

_"Maria, the love of a man and a woman is holy, too. You have a great capacity to love. What you must find out is how God wants you to spend your love."_

_"But I pledged my life to God, I - I've pledged my life to his service."_

_"My daughter, if you love this man, it doesn't mean you love God less. No. You must find out. You must go back."_

_"Oh, Mother, you can't ask me to do that. Please, let me stay. I beg of you."_

_"Maria, these walls were not built to shut out problems. You  
have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live."_

The life she was born to live…

Oh, the power of those simple words! They gave Maria back the hope she believed she had lost, they made her strong again. She fed on that hope, desperately. Like a starving soul she had allowed them to nurture her as she changed again into secular clothes, as she packed her few belongings in her old carpet back, fetched her inseparable guitar and made her way back to Aigen, whistling and singing songs about having confidence in herself like she had once done in what now felt like ages ago, naïvely daring to believe that she could be that same innocent, carefree girl she was when she first took that short journey.

If she only knew…

If she only knew that it would all begin again, the most terrible nightmare!

Maria did not know it yet, but she was destined to have a long and fulfilling life ahead of her. She was destined to find love, to have a family and children of her own. She would find her dream, the life she was meant to live, just as the Reverend Mother described it. Naturally, she would not have believe it if anyone had assured her just after she had left Nonnberg Abbey, because she would always remember the day of her return to the von Trapp household as the worst of her entire life. There had been a particular moment so unbearably painful that she had felt her heart being shattered, and the ground disappearing beneath her feet. Her confidence, her strength and courage faltered – she had never before felt so weak and helpless, and prayed that she would never feel that way again. The fact that there would be many happy memories to follow, none of then ever made her forget the icy wave that hit her when she heard the news from the children, the moment she returned from the Abbey…

"_Liesl, you all right?"_

"_Just fair."_

"_Many telegrams delivered here lately?"_

"_None at all, Fraulein. But I'm learning to accept it. I'll be glad when school begins."_

"_Oh, Liesl, you can't use school to escape your problems. You have to face them." _

How she wished for a crystal ball, to tell her what was coming after that innocent dialogue!

One must face one's problems and not use anything else as an escape…

Indeed!

She was about to swallow her own words, about to have a good dose of her own medicine. How she wished that she believed in crystal balls, or at least she had the power to vanish into thin air. Who had given her the news? Had it been Louisa or Brigitta? She did not quite remember, although she remembered exactly what was said.

"_Oh, I have so much to tell you all," _she had begun excitedly, almost feeling just like the girl who walked into the gates of the Trapp Villa not long ago.

Her life again had appeared so bright and full of promise. Everything would be fine, in a way or another. She would confront the Captain, and accept whatever fate had reserved for her. Thanks to the Reverend Mother, she felt strong enough to ask him what she wanted to know, strong enough to listen to his answer – whatever it was – and live with it afterwards, because she would know for certain it was what was expected of her.

That was not, of course, what she had intended to tell the children. She wanted to talk to them about the marvelous plans she had made for the rest of the summer, about all the fun they would have, the new madrigals she wanted to teach them during picnics in the Salzburg countryside. She wanted to tell them about her idea of taking them to a concert or two during the _Festspiele_…

"_We have things to tell you, too."_

It was Louisa who had spoken those words, she remembered it well now. The girl sounded like the old Louisa, the bitter thirteen year old she met when she first came to the house, not like the mischievous tomboy she became after just a few weeks. Louisa's gloomy tone of voice should have warned her, at least to control her enthusiasm, to brace herself. But it did not.

"_I'm sure you do,"_ she exclaimed happily, still oblivious of the subdued atmosphere surrounding the children.

Brigitta – cool, calm and controlled Brigitta – who gave her the news in a paused voice, almost as if she knew how much they would affect her.

"_The most important thing is that Father's going to be married."_

"_Married?" _

She remembered just babbling the world, too stunned to react in any other way. It brought her memory back to one of the worst days of her childhood, when a bully from her school had punched her hard in the stomach. That was how it felt, the instant when her worst fears had come true.

_Married!_

Captain von Trapp was marrying Baroness Schraeder.

The phrase echoed over and over again, she replayed it in her mind in order to convince herself that it was indeed a fact.

It _should_ be old news to her, if she were any wiser. The Reverend Mother had tactfully warned her just before she left that the Captain might no longer be a free man when she arrived and that she should prepare herself to face that possibility. The fact that Captain von Trapp was soon to be married for the second time was in the wagging mouths of every other gossiper in _Salzburgerland_, and this even before her departure, but there wasn't any kind of official announcement. During the journey from Salzburg to Aigen, the possibility occurred to her once or twice, but she dismissed it, refusing to even consider the worst possible scenario, and clinging to her old confidence and optimism.

Did Brigitta´s words meant that it finally happened? That the engagement was now official?

_Married…_

Maria wanted to kick herself. In her still shocked mind, she applied to herself every self-deprecating adjective she could think of.

"_That serves you right, for daring to believe too much in fairy tales. That was what you wanted, deep inside, wasn't it, when you decided to come back? You wanted the happily ever after ending, but you forgot such things are for Baronesses, not for commoners like you. What were you thinking? That when you got back you would find him on bended knee with a bouquet of red roses waiting for your arrival, only to ask _you_ to marry him? Well, he may certainly want something from you, but whatever that is, your golden ring will not be the one replacing the old one in his right hand._"

The children somehow noticed her distress, and surrounded her in a protective circle. For the first time, she wondered how much they knew, if they had somehow sensed her feelings towards the Captain. Children could be so incredibly perceptive at times. No, they could not know, how could they? They were upset because of their obvious dislike of the Baroness, not for any other reason. Although she had no doubt that those children loved her, they did so as a governess, an older sister perhaps, but not as… their mother.

Their father´s wife.

No, the idea was too painful to be considered. The mere thought of it at that moment would only drive her deeper into hopelessness.

The next words hardly needed to be spoken to her at all.

"_Yes, to Baroness Schraeder."_

"_Oh, I see…_"

The worst of it all had been that she was not even given any time to prepare herself to face him after having heard that. With her thoughts in turmoil, her panic increased when she saw the children looking towards the veranda.

"_O__h, Father, look! Look!"_

"_Father, Fraulein Maria's come back from the Abbey."_

She immediately made a decision: He would never know about her feelings. Whatever happened, what she felt for him would remain a secret she would carry to her grave.

"_I am going to survive this._"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she raised her head to look up at him. Thankfully her pride was still intact – it was the only thing that kept her from breaking down.

"_I will not cower and run away again. Never again. I will stay until the end, until I can't bear it anymore."_

"Good evening, Captain," she greeted him, bravely. She rarely spoke him with such formality, but it was only the necessary first step. It was time to go back to being _only the governess_ to the children of a distinctive aristocrat, just like in the first days after her arrival.

"_Good evening_!"

His tone was sarcastic, and she did not know if it was because of her unusual extreme politeness, or because she had just returned, without giving him any warning that she would, or even bother to ask if she even could return to her work. It was almost like he wanted to say "_well, well, well, look _who_ left the Abbey and decided to grace ourselves with her presence."_ Well, she would know soon enough.

"All right, everyone inside. Go and get your dinner." He clasped his hands, and the children happily rushed into the house, carrying her carpet bag and guitar with them.

Maria suddenly felt oddly naked without her personal belongings around her – the contents of the carpet bag and the old guitar was all she had in the world. Now she was left to face the Captain with nothing to hold on to. Even her dress was not her own – it was another hand-me-down from a new postulant who had been admitted to the Abbey only the day before she had left. She was not even sure what to do with her hands, so she let them drop to her side.

"_No, I can´t be alone with him yet. It is too soon…"_ she thought desperately. Yet, in spite of her achingly expressive eyes, there was little or nothing in her stance that betrayed her inner turmoil.

What would he do now? – She wondered. Would he glare and yell at her, telling to go back to the Abbey immediately? Part of her even wanted him to do that, because it would provide the escape she needed at the moment. Still, another part of her _wanted_ him to ask her to stay.

For what?

Oh, she did not know what she wanted anymore. To make matters worse, he certainly wasn't helping. He did not do anything for a while, he just stood there, as intensely handsome as she remembered him.

He walked down towards her.

One, two steps.

Closer and closer.

The expression in his eyes changed as he walked - there was no longer sarcasm there, but something else that was exactly what she was afraid to face. It was almost as if he was looking at her for the very first time, really _looking_ at her. _Something_ in him had changed while she was away. When he spoke again, there was a softness in his voice that was entirely new to her. If he meant his words to be accusing, that wasn't at all how they appeared to her.

"You left without saying goodbye... even to the children." He seemed strangely bewildered.

"Well, it was wrong of me. Forgive me," she replied, relieved that he had not shouted at her. She still tried to keep the best formal tone, the one a governess should always apply when addressing her employer.

"Why did you?" he asked.

The Captain, on the other hand, was _not_ talking to her like she was his governess. That something she had seen in his eyes was in his voice as well – it was _intimate_. Not the familiar tone he used with his friends, but something else entirely. She had not heard him speak like that, even to his children.

"Please don't ask me. Anyway, the reason no longer exists," she said with a light shrug, managing to twitch her lips into a weak smile as she uttered the half lie.

"Hah! But if a reason for you to abandon us like that _existed_, then I must know about it," he said, with one of his inevitable little smirks. Yes, he was trying to back her up against a wall again, but, like everything else about him that day, it was different.

"You left in the middle of the night," he stated.

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"You walked alone all the way from Aigen to Salzburg, in the dark… You put yourself in so much unnecessary danger, you must have had a very good reason for it."

"You may be right, Captain."

"I _am _right, _Fräulein_."

"_Erhm_." It was a different kind of "_Fräulein_" this time, he had never said it quite like that before. It sounded like an endearment, not like a command or a polite form of address. She swallowed and continued.

"It hardly matters anymore, does it - Captain?" she shrugged. "I am here now, safe and sound, aren't I?"

"You most certainly are," he purred, only to become serious again.

"Of course, if you…" He raised one eyebrow. "If you do not wish me to stay anymore…"

"I was not going to say that!" he snapped, defensively.

Still, she insisted.

"If you want me to go away, I´ll understand. I… I realize I should have warned you I was coming back, but, you see… there was no time…" she muttered incoherently, unable to end any of the sentences she started, as she realized that maybe now he would not even want her there anymore, because of his upcoming wedding, or because of the way she had left, without any warning. Her head dropped, as she waited for his answer, knowing that she might even be unwelcome at the Trapp villa.

She did not have to wait more than a blink of an eye.

"No!" he nearly shouted the word, and she startled.

"So you do want me to…"

"Stay! Yes, yes, you may stay. You _will_ stay." Quickly, he added. "This time I am not asking, I am ordering."

"Why?" was her expectant question. "Why do you want me to stay, now that you have the Baroness?"

She had to ask. It would be the first step towards finding out what she needed to know, no matter what happened. She needed to find out if the Baroness had been right about his feelings for her. She knew that she would not have any kind of peace in her life again if she did not _know_.

"The Baroness…" he whispered, and a brief look of panic crossed his eyes. But he soon recovered himself, and returned to his old persona. "It does matter, Fräulein, the children would have me keelhauled if I let you leave again. And I… I…"

"Yes?"

"_I_ don't want you to go either, so don't even think of trying to do that before I have a chance to – uh – to patch a few things."

"Patch a few things? What _things_?" She frowned at him.

"Not now," he replied. "Please, promise you won't leave again without talking to _me_ first."

"Captain, I…"

"It is not an order this time, it is just another simple and very reasonable request, considering… _everything_. Can you do that?" She nodded weakly. "But make no mistake, I still would like an explanation from you about your untimely departure."

Maria said nothing, but her eyes pleaded with him. "_Please… not now! Let me just catch my breath, I need time. I need to _think_!_"

"Very well," he said, and she closed her eyes momentarily, in relief. "I will let you get away with it for the moment." Maria nodded, and started climbing the stairs, to go into the house. He stopped her. "You - uh – you forgot… You left something behind when you left, I need to return it to you."

"What?" she startled. "I did? I don't think so, Captain, I…"

The Baroness chose that moment to come out in the veranda. Maria's voice died when she saw her. The little glimmer of hope she had felt when she first saw him died completely. It was not the first time that she found the contrast between her and the aristocrat staggering. The feeling was not multiplied one hundred-fold. The woman looked cool and composed, exactly like she did the last time Maria had seen her, in her bedroom, when the Baroness had opened her eyes about the Captain and his intentions towards her. The Baroness's face, however, gave no indication that she even remembered their little conversation.

"Fraulein Maria, you've returned. Isn't it wonderful, Georg?" she said, taking his arm. Even to someone as naïve as Maria, the meaning of the gesture was obvious. It was utterly possessive. "_No matter what he does to you, it is me who is going to wear his wedding ring,_" the Baroness seemed to be warning her. In answer to the question, the Captain looked down at her, grinning weakly – apologetically, almost.

Maria resorted to extreme politeness again, and did what was expected of her.

"May I wish you every happiness, Baroness, and you too, Captain. The children tell me you're going to be married."

His face became impassive when she said that – he was back to being the haughty aristocrat again. Maria hardly waited for the Baroness's response, and started running up the steps, praying that she would reach the safety of her room before the first tears began to fall.

"You _are_ back to – uh - stay?" His voice interrupted her once again.

Maria stopped.

"_Oh Lord, will this ever going to end?_" She turned back to face the elegant couple a few steps below her. His question had alarmed the Baroness, who was looking back at him, quizzically. The Captain did not notice that – his burning gaze was fixed on Maria, too intense to bear.

"_Oh please, don't do this to me. I cannot not bear it anymore."_

With the last bit of strength she possessed, Maria shook her head.

"Only until arrangements can be made for another governess," she said gravely, only glad that her voice had not caught. Then she turned her head towards the door, and silently left.

A_/N: (1) An original character of mine, one of Maria´s postulant friends from the Abbey. See my story "Edelweiss"._


	3. Chapter 3

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.]**_

**CHAPTER 2**

"_**Everything, then, which is such that its act of existing is other than its nature must needs have its act of existing from something else." **_

_**St Thomas Aquinas.**_

"Hallo children, Herr Detweiler, _Captain…_"

"Good morning, Fräulein Maria," the children answered in unison, as they used to, joined by Uncle Max.

"Good morning," answered the Captain, his head already hidden behind the morning paper.

"Good morning," echoed Max, looking at him instead of the governess, undoubtedly amused, and winking.

"_Don't_," the Captain warned him silently, neatly folding his paper and putting it down, glaring ominously. Regally, Max continued to enjoy his breakfast, acting like it was just another ordinary day at the von Trapp household.

Except that it was _not_ an ordinary day.

He knew it because Baroness Elsa von Schraeder was upstairs, finally asleep after having spent most of the night awake in Max's company, pacing in circles and smoking one cigarette after another. Georg knew she had gone to Max right after he tried to talk to her. He had every intention of ending the engagement, but she had not even allowed him to begin.

"_Elsa…"_

"_Oh darling, please, not now. You are not your usual self today, and neither am I. We might say things we'll regret. I ask you please, Georg. Give me, give _us_ another day. I am not sure if it will change anything, but think about what you intend to do… to us,_" Elsa had said, and for the first time ever, he heard pleading in his voice.

As Georg would eventually find out, Max had tried his best to help Elsa when she run to him afterwards, as close to tears as she had ever been in her life. In the end they both came to the inevitable conclusion that it was only a matter of time - soon, she would be departing for Vienna with a broken engagement and quite possibly a broken heart.

He still planned to talk to Elsa as soon as possible, and put an end to their engagement. She had asked him for a day, and gentlemanly, he had agreed to that, since he already felt like an utter wretch for keeping her hopes up, while he loved another woman. Not only that, he had a debt of gratitude to Elsa that he was not sure he could ever repay. If not for Elsa, he would have been completely blind to Maria. She had opened his eyes to all the world's possibilities again; unaware that what she did was going to turn him away from her in the end…

Yes, he would hurt her, he would have to, but knowing her as he did, he was certain she would recover soon enough. If Elsa's heart had to be broken, it would mend soon enough. If he knew her well, she would already be making plans for that trip around the world she had suggested for their honeymoon before her train even left _Salzburgerland_. Elsa would be fine, he was certain of it.

As for Maria…

He looked at the very late young woman, hastily making her way to her seat across from him at the long table, stopping here and there to chat with his children and help the younger ones with their breakfast. Like Max Detweiler, she was trying her best to make that appear just like an ordinary day. Unlike Max, however, she was being dismal at it - her body language was enough to tell any keen observant that she was failing miserably.

His heart sank, and he felt his chest tightening. Unlike Elsa´s, he wondered if her broken heart could ever be mended… He wondered if it wasn't already too late for him to fix the mess that he had caused because it had taken him so long to acknowledge his feelings for her.

No, it couldn't be. He would fight that battle to the end, and he would not loose.

To think that only a few weeks ago he would have been mad at her for being for being slightly late again! He would lash out and begin one of his endless lectures about the virtues of punctuality, as if the good fate of all Austria depended solely on his governess being on time for every meal. He was angry now, but not at her, not because she was ridiculously, adorably late as usual – he was mad at himself and the circumstances. He was furious with his complete inability to deal with the situation. His best diplomatic skills were being put to the test, and, as far as Maria was concerned, he still doubted he was being successful.

He had known what was happening to Maria for a while, he just refused to see it and acknowledge it for what it was. He did not even need to be an experienced man to realize that, she was just so… so delectably obvious. Yet, even though the physical attraction she had been unmistakable from the start, the same could not be said about her _love_ for him. It had been the Reverend Mother the one who had helped him to realize that, and the conclusion to him in a surprisingly simple, logical manner.

In the first few hours after she had fled to the Abbey, he had chosen to believe that she was merely angry because he had given her no alternative but to dance with him that night. Or, maybe she felt much too intimidated by him to be able to stand his presence. The idea had been dismissed almost immediately when he thought of the children – Maria would not simply have abandoned them, if not for a very grave motive. Claiming that she missed the Abbey too much as not too strong a reason - during those carefree days she had spent in Aigen, she never even _mentioned_ the Abbey, not even in passing, unless he provoked her to talk about it! The children had not bought the excuse given in that wretched note she had left behind, and neither had he.

There had to be another reason.

He had always prided himself in being a very perceptive man, and yet the answer had not come to him so easily. Not until he saw the Reverend Mother and learned what had happened to Maria after she left.

"_She has cut herself from the world completely... Curiously, not unlike you did when your wife died, Captain, so you certainly know what I am talking about_," the Mother Abbess had said.

Yes, he certainly knew what she was talking about.

She was talking about an ache so deep that he had thought he was going to die from it, so intense that it stole his will to live until Elsa had helped him to find it again. If that was what Maria was feeling, to the core of her soul, then there was no doubt that she loved him… If that was true, he had to do everything in his power to heal that pain. But before he could do that, he wanted to hear the words from her, No, he could not ask her directly if she loved him, not with her like that. Instead, he wanted her to tell him why she had left, and why she had returned. Her answer would tell him everything he needed, and he would know what to do afterwards.

However, his first clumsy attempts to talk to her as soon as she had ended in near disaster when Elsa had interrupted them in the veranda, at the worst possible moment. His heart ached when he remembered her shattering into pieces right in front of his eyes. He wanted to forget Elsa standing proudly beside him and just take her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to send her a message:

"_I love you. I'll make you happy, no matter what it takes. Everything will be all right now. Trust me…_"

He tried to convey the words with his tone of voice, his eyes, but Maria was obviously too distressed to realize that.

She had successfully managed to avoid him ever since, and he could not blame her. The children had helped – they refused to leave her for a second. She had dined with them, and then they all went upstairs, to _catch up_, as Liesl had put it. Afterwards, she retired without even saying good night. It had been the first time that had happened – no matter how furious she was at him, she would always come and knock at the door of his study to say goodnight to him, accompanied with the children.

The little anchor brooch she had left behind was still in the pocket of his jacket (1). He had kept it there ever since the night she had left, first with the excuse that eventually he should take it to her, at Nonnberg. Now he just wanted it back where it belonged, pinned against her heart. He had planned to return it to her as soon as possible, but now he hated to think about what would happen if he had done it in those first few hours. The Reverend Mother had been right about something else – Maria had to be ready, and she was not.

And to think that he believed himself to be an experienced man, as far as women were concerned! This ridiculously awful situation was completely new to him…

It had been so easy with Agathe, almost like if he had made up his mind to love her _before_ he actually loved her. _Vini, vidi, vinci – I came, I saw and I conquered,_ he thought in retrospect. There had not been a shred of angst surrounding their courtship and their marriage. Everything went just as planned, slow and gentle just as it was supposed to be. It wasn't only the fact that their social and cultural backgrounds were similar. Maybe for that reason, he always took their love for granted, and, as a result, suffered horribly when he had lost her. When he first confronted Agathe with his feelings, he already was certain that she loved him, and that she would want to spend the rest of her life with him and that everybody else – friends and family – would be extremely happy about it. No trauma, no stress – just the beginning the happiest decade of his life so far. That is how it was, and that is who he foolishly hoped would happen again with Elsa. The minor detail that he did not love Elsa seemed of minor importance, compared to everything else – the security and stability she represented, for him and his children.

With Maria, on the other hand, the realization that he actually _loved_ her came to him suddenly, making him feel like he had been hit by a torpedo. He may have fallen in love the moment she sat on the pine cone, but the realization of the fact came as an utter and complete shock. That he loved her, yes, now he knew, and he would not doubt it again for as long as he lived.

"_Do you love Maria?_" the Reverend Mother asked, point blank. At that moment, he felt like he was suddenly dipped in the icy waters of the North Atlantic in the middle of the winter. He called himself the worst names he could think of. Yet, he still denied his own feelings, he still fought with the idea during the long, solitary drive back to Aigen, even knowing deep inside that, sooner or later, he would have to admit it, whether he liked it or not.

It was just _not possible_.

Those words he repeated out loud while driving. It was just too damned complicated, and he made it even worse, by stubbornly refusing to rethink his relationship with Elsa and taking the next step and announcing the engagement to the children the following day.

If he married Maria, on the other hand… and marriage was the only option now that he knew he loved her, would love her until his dying breath, and maybe even beyond…

It would be the biggest risk he had ever taken. It would be even worse than when he decided to become a submarine commander. The gossipers all over Austria would have something to talk about, something to speculate for the rest of their lives. Their wagging tongues would not leave his family alone. And the families – his family and Agathe´s family – o-ho, he had no clue about how they would react. He doubted that they would immediately embrace Maria, no matter how enchanting and captivating she was. He would have to brace himself to face their wrath, or, even worse, their indifference. The children had to be considered as well – they would undoubtedly suffer from it. Not only that, he had to deal with the fact that they loved Maria dearly, but as a governess, and ultimately as a dear friend. How would they react to the possibility of Maria becoming their new mother, especially when they had not even ever asked for a new mother in the first place?

Then he saw her – wearing another ludicrous convent dress, surrounded by his children – and everything else became irrelevant. Their social differences, the negative reactions that their union was certainly going to cause, the children's reaction… everything became meaningless, so small in comparison to the enormity of his love for her. The Reverend Mother, in her infinite wisdom had been right – and he was only glad he realized it in time.

Hopefully in time!

Of course he had been unable to sleep a wink the previous night. More than once, he found himself just outside the door to her bedroom, as if just to make sure that she was still there. He knew he had the power to end her heartache, and only him. One hundred Reverend Mothers comforting Maria would not make her feel any better.

The temptation to knock at her door had been almost too hard to resist, but he fought bravely. Whatever he said would only make things worse if she were not ready to listen to him. She was just too distressed, too confused to think rationally. Maria had built a brick wall around her, and he would have to fight to breach it. There was no middle ground; she either reacted with anger or extreme shyness to everything he said to her. He needed time, time alone with her. And in a house with seven children, Max Detweiler, Elsa and half a dozen servants, not to mention his butler listening behind doors and reporting everything he heard to everyone else who cared to listen to him; it was not such an easy task.

When she arrived at the breakfast table just now, she almost did not sound like his Maria at all – her voice was cheerful, as usual, but it was not natural. It scared him like hell. She did not arrive running noisily, skipping or running in that way that was so typically hers, her restlessness causing her to move like if her upper body was faster than her legs. She had merely _walked_ into the room. Maria never merely _walked –_ she skipped, tripped, stumbled, ran, but never just walked. It was almost as if she had to force herself… _to be herself_! He wondered if the children would not notice, but he could tell only by looking at them that they had. At least Liesl, Louisa and Brigitta did, judging by the worried glances they exchanged the moment they heard her voice.

When she said _Captain,_ not her voice dropped an octave. He had noticed that before, ever since the night she insisted that he sung for the children. He used to think she was intimidated by him, no matter what indication she gave she was not. But this morning, besides being an octave lower, it seemed like she struggled to say the word, and when she did, it was merely above a whisper.

_Captain._

Never before she had trouble addressing him like that – on the contrary, she seemed to enjoy it, adding the word to every other sentence she spoke to him, almost like a veiled challenge, especially when she said something blunt or outrageous. _Captain, Sir,_ and even the occasional _Reverend Captain… _He smiled at the memory. He hated doing this to her, to put her through this hell. The trouble was that he didn't know how she would react when she learned about his plans for her, that hiring another governess was absolutely out of the question. Right now, she had no clue, and she looked like she was in the brink of a panic attack.

Maria was now about to sit down now, mumbling an excuse for being late that was barely audible. He watched with interest what was about to happen next.

"Fräulein, don't!" Gretl screamed. He smiled – his little one had always been one of Maria's most faithful champions.

"Gretl?" Maria looked at her puzzled. "What is it?"

"Look first," Friedrich said, not without glaring at his little sister.

"I just didn't want her to scream again," Gretl explained.

"Thank you, Gretl that was very thoughtful of you…" Maria saw it then – a pine cone, with a card attached to it. Tears welled up in her eyes. It read _Welcome home, Fräulein Maria,_ and it was signed by the seven von Trapp children.

"Oh, children, I don't… this is… this is…" she swallowed, fighting tears. "… really very sweet of you." She sat down then, placing the pine cone next to her plate. "I don't think I would mind even if I had sat on it and made a fool out of myself… again."

"It was Louisa's idea!" Kurt informed her.

"But everyone agreed," Brigitta added.

"Actually it was not me, it was fa…" Louisa stopped herself in time, being kicked by Liesl under the table. "Ouch, Liesl!"

"No matter whose idea it was, it was a lovely thought. Thank you all," she said, smiling at each and every one of the children, but refusing to meet his eyes.

The Captain noticed, somewhat relieved, that she sounded almost like the old Maria now.

Almost.

But it was enough to bring a half smile to his lips. The children – they were the key. He would have to trust his sons and daughters to carry her through the next few days.

His gaze turned away from Maria, busy helping Marta with her breakfast, and turned to Max. His friend looked like he was enjoying the best show on earth as the guest of honor. Georg was not sure he liked the idea of him staying in Salzburg after Elsa returned to Vienna, but he claimed to be terribly busy with the Festival. Besides, he thought, with Elsa gone, he would still need a chaperone, at least if Maria agreed to marry him. Meanwhile, he was glad that Max was keeping his mouth shut about whatever he knew about him and Maria. The children had been through too many changes in the past few weeks. Elsa would not say a word, he was sure of that. By now, they had their Fräulein back, and that should be enough for a while.

It was when Franz interrupted.

"Excuse me, Sir."

"_Who_ is it this time, Franz" he said irritably. He had repeatedly warned his butler about how much he hated being interrupted during a meal. He did not mind before, while he was distant from his children – on the contrary, the interruption was usually welcome. Not anymore. Grimly, he thought that the next thing he would do after he worked things with Maria would be to re-think Franz's position in the house. Of all the servants, he was the only one who seemed unable to hide his hostility towards Maria, and he could not allow something like that anymore.

"Your mother in law, Captain," the butler informed, stiffly.

Silence fell upon the table. The children whispered among themselves in rushed tones, in disbelief. They knew only too well that _Gromi, _as they called their maternal grandmother, never called father, unless it was for a very serious reason.

"What can she possibly want?" Liesl mumbled.

"Isn't she in London with grandfather?"

"I have no idea, Louisa." The Captain was just as puzzled.

"Do you think somebody _died_?" Brigitta asked, dramatically. The last few times their grandmother telephoned them, it had been to announce the death of some elderly family member.

"Don't you say that, Brigitta," Kurt exclaimed. "It is bad luck."

Excusing himself, the Captain abruptly left the table, leaving behind a very silent Maria, and his children wondering about Gromi´s telephone call.

_A/N: (1) Read about the story behind that brooch in "Treasures"._


	4. Chapter 4

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

_**A/N: My thanks to all the reviewers and to the members of the fan fiction forum who provided me with lots of ideas to improve this story. This chapter can be found in the old version, but it has a twist in this new one... As I said before, the story is almost entirely changed. **_

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**CHAPTER ****3**

"_**To man, faith; to woman, doubt. She bears the heavier burden. Does not woman invariably suffer for two?"**_

_**Honoré de Balzac**__**.**_

The house was silent now that the six of the seven von Trapp children were sleeping. It wasn't completely quiet, because the Captain was at the piano, and judging by the soft murmur of voices coming from the ballroom, Herr Detweiler and Baroness Schraeder were with him. Maria realized that as she descended the stairs, barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand, because the last thing she wanted was to be seen or heard. She saw the door to the room was ajar, she saw the light coming from inside. She heard the Baroness's laughter, after Max asked the Captain to play something they used to sing at the Navy.

There was no indication that anything was amiss at the Trapp villa. It was almost like she never had left it, she noticed gloomily.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and quickly tiptoed past the ballroom door, without bothering to look inside. She needed peace, she needed _air._ She needed to breathe, and God knows that she would not be able to that near _him_. She felt like all doors and windows had been closed to her, and with that, one of her basic beliefs had been shattered. There _had_ to be a way out, and if there was, she would have to find it. Maybe a little walk would help – she would not be able to go to the mountains, but the grounds of the Trapp villa would have to suffice.

"Well, well, well! I do hope you are not planning to run back to Nonnberg barefoot in the rain at this ungodly hour!" said the Captain, leaning casually against the double doors to the ballroom, closing them behind him. He was grinning at her, and the look in his eyes was something between irony and mischief.

"I gave you my word that I wouldn't leave, didn't I?" She spoke very seriously, turning around to face him, holding her head high, ignoring the fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach.

"Are the children in bed?" he asked, as she hastily dropped her shoes to the floor and proceeded to put them on.

"Yes, Captain, of course," she answered, evenly.

"Of course," he echoed. "They have worn you out today, haven't they?"

"Oh, it is all right, they are just trying to make up for the lost time," she said with a dismissive gesture.

His lips curved into an amused grin, as he pointed a finger at her. "Yes, I suppose it is _your_ own fault for leaving them like that!"

Maria continued walking towards the door, as regally as possible.

"You are not doing it again, are you?" His tone was light and playful, and yet… and yet he could barely hide a hint of anxiety, which was evident even to her. It was odd for a man like him, always so confident and sure of himself. But then he was a father, concerned about his children, not wishing them to be hurt.

"I - I was just going for a little walk." Her voice was low, and she refused to meet his eyes, pretending to be busy with an imaginary crease in her skirt.

"In case you haven't noticed, it is – uh - _raining_."

She frowned. "No, it isn't! I just…"

"It will!"

"Well, I don't mind a little rain. Now, if you excuse me…"

"Hah! Oh yes. You and your solitary walks in the middle of the night…"

"Is there anything wrong with my walks?" she asked him defiantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"No, no, no! Nothing at all," he said. "You may walk as much as you want. Just… stay inside the villa, and make sure you return before Franz locks the doors at midnight. And while you are at it, please try not to catch a cold or anything worse. Take my umbrella; you know where to find it."

Maria nodded. "Very well, Captain. I won't be long, I promise."

"Hmm… One other thing."

"Yes?"

"How are you?" he asked abruptly, just as she was about to start moving away again. The question took her by surprise, and she straightened herself, her eyes wide.

"How am _I_?" she echoed, hating the fact that she probably sounded like a half wit, but at the moment there was little she could do about it.

"Yes. _How are you_? I hardly saw you since breakfast, and when I did, you were surrounded by your little protective guard of honor."

"My little what?"

"My children."

She tried to smile, trying not to make too much of what she had just guessed. Had he been trying to speak to her alone, without the children?

"Oh yes. Ahem… I am very well, Captain. Thank you."

"Then stop avoiding me. You didn't have to scurry back to your room after dinner like that. You just…" he rolled his eyes, "… _vanished_. And now I caught you in the act of leaving again."

For a moment, Maria almost returned to her old, forthrightness. She did not _scurry,_ did she? _Vanish?_ Shortly after her arrival, she had to admit, she fought the temptation to do just that. She had in fact recovered part of her confidence since her arrival, even though her emotional balance was still too shaky, and she found herself going from denial to anger, sadness, despair, acceptance, and back to denial every five minutes.

"Well, I…" She frantically searched for a plausible excuse. "Well…"

"Well?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"I am not going to Nonnberg, Captain. Just to… to the gazebo."

"Hah! _The gazebo_. I never understood what you found so special about that extravagant architectural folly."

"But it is beautiful!" Maria was in no mood to tell him exactly why she liked the gazebo so much. "I - I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged with the… with the children and the - the Baroness. Isn't it important that they get better acquainted with her considering you are soon to be married?"

There it was – the old habit of hers, of answering his questions with another one, whenever she felt cornered – he had even confronted her about that during the fateful night in the attic. He completely ignored the question, and started pacing around her, just like he did the first day they had met. She found it was intimidating now as it had been then, maybe even more so.

"Since you mentioned your dear sainted Abbey, I am curious about something."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself over there all this time?"

"I wasn't… I wasn't gone for too long."

"You were away for _thirteen days_."

_Thirteen days? _

She had not bothered to count them, but he had. It was a little… baffling.

He continued his inquiry of her.

"I was told you were in _seclusion_. I think I know what it means, but how on earth does did that apply to you, exactly?" He stopped to stare at her, waiting for an answer.

She lowered her eyes.

"It is nothing out of the ordinary in a convent, Captain. Sometimes we do need some time on our own, to… to meditate."

"I see – I guess the good nuns are not fond of the idea of their virtuous postulants walking alone at night in the rain."

"Who told you I was in seclusion?" she asked, and saw him stiffening a bit when she did that. She knew that the children had been at the Abbey and had spoken to Sister Margaretta, but she doubted that she had told them she was in seclusion.

"What did you need to _meditate_ about?" He asked in return.

Maria thought for a moment. "Oh, the usual…"

"Holy virtues or deadly sins?" he teased, remembering their conversation a few weeks before (1).

"Both," she answered too quickly, betraying herself. She felt her face redden – he had hit the mark with scorching precision. "_One deadly sin, in particular_", she thought.

"But _you.._. I was just wondering – you did not get yourself into any _trouble_ again, did you?" He stopped and stared at her intently.

"How did you know I was in seclusion, Captain?" she insisted upon the question, refusing to appear weak to him. She was going to use every little opportunity he gave her to fight back.

"Never mind how I know that. _I know_. Were they too severe with you because you left us before the right time? Were you disciplined in any way?"

"No, of course not. Seclusion is never used as a punishment."

"I see." He wasn't ready to give up yet.

A sudden thought occurred to her.

"Have you… spoken to the Reverend Mother, Captain?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. It would be the only way he would possibly know she had been secluded.

"What business could I possible have with the Reverend…" he started, but then he rolled his eyes, and admitted defeat. "Yes, yes. I have spoken to the Mother Abbess. Three days ago, as a matter of fact."

Her jaw dropped. It had been a tentative question, and she had asked it more in self-defense, to fight back his relentless interrogation. She hardly expected an answer, least of all that the answer would be a "_yes_".

"You did! Oh… _Why did you_?" Even though she was afraid of the answer, she just had to ask. She was afraid because she knew what he would say – that he had to demand an explanation about her departure. If he could not get that from her, he would speak to the Reverend Mother.

"You left so suddenly, the children were asking endless questions, I had to find out why," he answered, matter-of-factly. "I needed to know if you were well. You… I was responsible for your safety and your well being. I gave the Reverend Mother my solemn promise that no harm would come to you at all. When you ran away like that after the ball…"

"I did not exactly run away. I left a note!"

"Yes, yes, your ridiculous little note. When you _ran _away," he continued, a little exasperated, "I feared you were… perhaps… _hurt_…" She lowered her eyes again. "I thought perhaps my former friend, András von Szaratay had been _inconvenient_ to you again."

Her head shot up. How dare he? To condemn the Count when he wanted to do the same thing to her? To turn her into a _courtesan_?

And why did he have to bring _that night_ up?

Oh, he could had done even worse and spoken about the night in the attic, when she woke up to music in the middle of the night, and walked up the stairs to find him playing the grand piano. A night that she avoided thinking about, especially lately, when her world began turning upside down. Oh, there were other nights when she would wake up to the sound of his haunting music. How tempted she had been, to follow that the sound, if for no other reason, only to see him as she had seen him that night. But he did not look wild tonight, as he did then. He looked impeccable as usual. Only his eyes and his voice linked him to that man she had known only that once. If she had only a glimpse of that man again, she knew she would be forever lost. Stubborn tears prickled her eyes, and she needed all her willpower to keep them from falling.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest again and fired back as coolly as she could possibly muster, focusing on her anger, rather than her pain.

"Captain, I can deal with rakes and scoundrels such as you… I mean, such as that slimy Count with both hands tied behind my back!" she blurted out.

"_Slimy Count?_" he chuckled, raising his eyebrows and looking at her, amusedly. "And since when a convent bred girl like you has gathered enough experience to deal with – uh – _rakes and scoundrels_?"

"_I learned it from you_," she wanted to yell. Instead, she said irritably, "Oh no, no, _no_! We are not having that argument about my life experiences or lack thereof again, are we?"

"No, we are not. You may put down your weapons. For tonight, at least." He resumed his pacing around her. "Nevertheless, I am still curious. Were you ill?" he asked tactfully.

His question surprised her again. "No, not at all. _At least not physically,_" she concluded in thought.

"Now, I don't know if I believe that. Right now, you are not exactly a picture of good health," he observed. "Apart from the little color on your cheeks, you look pale and there are dark circles under your eyes. No, I do not like it. Frau Schmidt told me you hardly touched your meals, which means you are probably not eating enough to keep a fly alive. The children are worried, and quite frankly, so am I. _What_ is the matter?"

"Nothing!" she said, with a dismissive gesture that was so typically hers, and attempting a smile. Other than that, her brain was frozen. He was _worried_ about her? However, she had recently learned a very good lesson about not making assumptions about him – he was not worried about her, he worried about the children. If she fell ill, the children would suffer.

Why was he questioning her like that? Why was he so interested in her thoughts and feelings, especially now that she new that his bride to be was in the next room, sipping champagne, waiting for him to return to her, to call her _darling_ and to flirt shamelessly? Her heart ached, because now she admitted that the truth was she longed to be called darling by him, and she knew that the world would come to an end before that ever happened.

"Forgive me," he apologized, unexpectedly. "I _am_ pushing you too far, I did not mean to act like an inquisitor. Let us leave this conversation for another day when you are back to being your old self again."

"_Oh Captain, I doubt that will ever happen!"_ she ached to tell him.

He nodded towards the door. "Do not desert us so early, I ask you. You may go for your walk and _meditate,_ but when you return, please do join us. Max was just about to convince me to…"

"I am sorry, Captain," she interrupted him. "I am sure Herr Detweiler has some very creative entertaining in mind, but I _am_ rather tired. It's been quite an exhausting day," she said, her voice shaking.

"And yet, you were just going for a little walk, weren't you?" He winked and smiled softly. "Even as tired as you are?" Caught in her little lie, Maria turned away from him.

"Captain, please don't…," she began pleading, but he did not allow her to continue.

"No, say no more." His eyes burned into hers, and she could not bring herself to look away.

"I…" she tried to speak, but her throat felt tight.

"Maria!" he silenced. "I need to..." His tone was strangled, and there was passion, as well as angst in his words. It was just too much for Maria.

"Darling, where…" The Baroness burst into the room. "Oh, I am terribly sorry. Have I interrupted something?

Maria turned her back to her and the Captain, drying the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand. Georg followed the motion with his eyes, and then turned to the Baroness.

"No, of course not, Elsa. What is it that you wanted?" he asked impatiently.

"Nothing, dear. You disappeared from the room, and I was only wondering what had your attention. Now I know, of course." Before the Captain could say anything, she turned to Maria. "Fräulein Maria, are you staying?" she asked, innocently. "I was wondering if you could sing some of Schubert's _Lieder_ for us. Georg can play the piano, and you could sing. Wouldn't that be _perfect_?" she ended, taking the Captain's arm.

"_Just perfect,"_ Maria thought grimly. To sing love songs while _he _played the piano, and while both of them were watched by Baroness Schrader. She turned around to voice the first excuse that would come to mind, but the Captain spoke for her.

"I think Maria is rather tired tonight, Elsa. This had been a very exhausting couple of days for her… for all of us, in fact."

Elsa's questioning glance turned to Maria, who finally felt strong enough to speak again. "Your… He… The Captain is right as usual, Baroness. I was just about to retire. If you don't mind, I would like to leave Schubert for some other rime."

"Maybe some other time then," the Baroness said.

"Maybe. It's a promise." Maria tried to smile.

"Good night Baroness. _Captain_."

"Good night," they answered in unison.

As she walked to the door, she heard the Baroness saying.

"Now darling, I won't allow you to follow the little nun's example and leave me so early. Why don't you join me at the upstairs balcony with a glass of that champagne I love so much?

Maria was outside before she could hear the Captain's answer.

_A/N: (1) "Underneath her Wimple"._


	5. Chapter 5

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****4**

OOO

_A/N: Sorry about the delay - you know how it is. That annoying thing called "real life":-) This chapter in particular needed some more changes before I published it, and it took a bit longer. My thanks to all of you who have been reviewing this story. I am really glad you are enjoying it!_

_Disclaimers: See previous chapters._

OOO

"_**Ex nihilo nihil fit." (Nothing comes from nothing.) **_

_**Parmenides, Ancient Greek Philosopher, ca. 514 B.C.**_

OOO

"_This is how it is going to be from now on. __All you must to is to learn to accept it… and to live with it, for as long as it is necessary."_

Maria repeated this mantra over and over again, during another long, restless night, following the last encounter with the Captain when Baroness Schraeder had interrupted another awkward moment. For the first and probably only time in her life, she was actually _glad_ to see the aristocratic woman, for if not for the Baroness, God knows how their confrontation would have ended.

Things just _had_ to become easier as time passed – that was what the eternal optimist who still lived inside Maria wanted to believe.

Strangely enough, it would be him, the Captain himself, the one who would help her most with that. Of course she had no doubt that some things would never change: the unbearable intensity in his gaze that lured her to him would still be there at all times because it was a part of him. Yet, since her return from Nonnberg, she noticed that he did not act like a man who might have less than honorable intentions towards her… Actually, other than talking in riddles most of the time, he was doing hardly more than just _looking_ at her (as if it weren´t enough!) and was treating her with nothing but utmost respect… almost like she was a guest in the house, and not the governess, in fact.

"_Yes, this is how it will be. __It was just awful the first day, terrible the second day and it is going to be difficult to face him today and tomorrow, but it will be a little easier next week, and not so frightening next month – if you are still here. One year from now maybe your heart will not skip a beat if you only hear the sound of his footsteps, and you won´t stop breathing if he only looks at you or jump three feet in the air if he only calls _"Fräulein!"…"

She could not help it – the memory made her smile.

"_But then, one year from now, I have no clue about where you will be, Maria, but I doubt you will be anywhere near Salzburg. Your brave sea captain will be nothing but a memory…"_

No, she would not be able to bear to be anywhere near Aigen after he married Baroness Schraeder.

Her thoughts were once again leading her to sink further into her depression, and she did her best to banish them immediately.

"_Work Maria. Work, work,_ work! _That is what you must do. Remember what the Sister Berthe used to say all the time: work is a balm._"

She frowned, slightly amused in spite of the circumstances, realizing that it was probably the first time she ever quoted Sister Berthe or followed any of her advices. But this _was _good advice, and the words were proving to be true indeed.

Ever since her return, she allowed herself to be willingly dragged by the children to a whirlwind of activities. She did not even try to resist, taking full advantage of it. They kept her busy during every minute of the day, from the moment the first child woke up and demanded her attention to the moment that the last one went to bed, asking her to read a story. With a pang in her heart, she noticed how they clung to her in almost desperation, notably the youngest girls, who would each grab one of her hands and squeeze it tightly whenever they had a chance. It was like they were trying not only to make up for the lost time, but recover all of it as well. Only Liesl and Friedrich appeared to be were strangely wary of her at times, probably holding a small grudge because of the way in which she had left, saying goodbye in a short, formal note.

Although reuniting with the children was proving to be quite an exhausting experience, Maria did not even think of demanding some rest, of slowing them down, or saying no to anything they asked of her. She did that for her own sake: it was important that she kept herself busy during every waking hour. It was crucial that, during the day, she could only be found in the company of the children, for she had no wish to be caught alone with _him_ again.

Fortunately, that day it seemed that the Captain too had no interest in her presence around him at all. He was either much too busy with his own affairs – his submarines, his business deals - or was it with Baroness Schraeder?

"_Where is _he_?_" _Where is the Baroness_? _Where _are_ they?"_

Even in her distressed state, it was a mystery Maria wanted to solve.

It was mid-afternoon, and she was yet to see him today. She only noticed that, with the Baroness by his side, he had driven away sometime before lunch, but never saw any of them returning.

She´d known it from her first days in the house: whenever he was at home, he made sure that his presence was known to _everybody_. Nothing seemed to escape his scrutiny. The fact that he was entirely unable to keep track Maria´s whereabouts most of the time used to annoy him extremely, as it annoyed her that he used just to appear magically before here where and when she least expected.

But now… she missed all that! She missed _him,_ in spite of the fact that she did not feel brave enough to face him.

No… they could not have simply _eloped_, could they?

Alarmed, she considered the possibility briefly, as ludicrous as it was. Could they be so passionately in love that, all of a sudden, they realized they would not be able to go through all the formalities required in a society engagement and wedding before they were together again?

No, that would be ridiculous.

In spite of the engagement, eloping wasn´t something that Captain von Trapp would do under any circumstances, although frankly she could not be so sure about the Baroness. The image of her taking his arm possessively, standing by his side when they confirmed the news of their engagement still burned in Maria´s mind. It was clear that he did not love her as passionately as she loved him, though it was also clear at this point that he was quite a master in the art of disguising his own feelings…

"_Where are you?"_

With such thoughts in mind, Maria headed towards the nursery some time in the middle of the afternoon.

When she found her charges sitting in a circle on the thick carpet on the floor, she stopped at the door and took a step back. If any of this happened a couple of months before, she would be sure that they were up to something, perhaps another prank. "_The war council_" – that was how their father called it when the seven of them sat together like that. They seemed so engrossed in some heated debate that Maria decided not to announce her presence immediately, with the usual "hallo children!" Instead, she stayed outside the door, trying to listen to what they were saying. Only Liesl noticed her there, but instead of welcoming Maria into the room, she cast a somewhat warning glance in her direction.

"Gromi rang father three times already, and in two days. I don't know what on earth it was all about," said Liesl, returning her full attention to her brothers and sisters. It was almost like she wanted to tell her governess, not directly, what they were arguing about, but still did not wish her to be a part of the conversation.

Maria felt another little pang of sadness. It was if something had broken between her and the children – Liesl in particular – and she was not sure if things would ever be the same again. In her highly emotional, sensitive state she felt unwanted left out of their little intimate circle.

"_Never mind, it is just Liesl, and she is just at _that age," Maria shrugged, trying to calm herself. The Lord knew how oddly she herself used to behaved when she was fifteen or sixteen! So strangely and unpredictably that at that early age she made the decision to become a nun in Salzburg´s Nonnberg Abbey! One could only wonder what Liesl had in mind for her future.

"I don't know what she said to him exactly, but the last time he was so mad he was nearly climbing up the walls," Liesl spoke to her brothers and sisters in a conspiratorial tone, bringing Maria out of her brief reverie.

"Didn´t you hear anything?" Louisa asked.

"Only father saying "_I know what I am doing"_, and then "_this is not the best moment_"_._"

"Maybe she wants to come and see us," suggested Brigitta. "But that does not make sense, because father never minded her visits before."

"If she is indeed coming to Salzburg, this time father is not too happy about it."

"Do you think she is upset because he is getting married?" Kurt asked.

"No, silly!" snorted Louisa. "Remember the last time we visited Gromi in Innsbruck? She and grandfather said during dinner one day how happy they would be if father married Baroness Schraeder one day."

"By the way, where _is_ the Baroness? Has anyone seen her today?"

"_Wouldn´t we all like to know?"_ Maria thought, but still made no motion to interrupt the children. "_But most importantly, _where is your father_?"_

"I don´t know." Marta answered. "We hardly even saw her since Fräulein Maria came back from the Abbey,"

"Do you think that they had a fight?" asked Gretl.

"Not that I know of. It is also very strange. Fräulein Maria and father were always bickering, and now they seem to be… what, Gretl?" asked Louisa, seeing her little sister shaking her head furiously.

"Not Fräulein Maria! The Baroness! Did she and father _fight_?"

Brigitta´s eyes went wide. "Do you think they cancelled the wedding? Maybe that is why grandmother telephoned after all! O-ho, she would _not_ be happy about it."

"Brigitta, didn´t Fräulein Maria advise you to pull the reins on your imagination? It is nothing like that. The Baroness´s mother is very sick; she had to return to Vienna this morning… That is what Frau Schmidt said, but Franz thinks otherwise," informed Friedrich, and Maria wished he would say what did the butler think, but none of the children were curious enough to ask.

"Why don´t we ask Uncle Max?" suggested Gretl. "He knows _everything_."

The older children did not pay any attention to the little one, and continued to make up their little theories. "There haven´t been any phone calls, other than Gromi´s. How did the Baroness get the news about her mother?"

"A telegram, perhaps," suggested Louisa, with a sly glance towards Liesl.

"No, there have been no telegrams either," Liesl chimed in, glaring at her younger sister.

"I don´t know… it is all very unusual," Brigitta began. "Last night I heard father playing_ Mozart_ in the piano."

"So what, silly? He plays all the time now," sneered Kurt. "He said that he needs to teach his fingers what they are supposed to do again."

"Yes, he does play a lot nowadays. But _not_ Mozart! He was mother´s favorite, and even when the piano was brought back downstairs, he still did not play him at all. He always preferred that gloomy Russian fellow, Rachmanisomething. Mozart was much too cheerful for his taste, that is what he said."

"It is Rachmaninoff, and he is not so gloomy. He is _romantic_!"

The children began talking all at once. Maria walked in and cleared her throat, loudly, to make her presence known.

"Fräulein Maria" exclaimed Friedrich, blushing a little. "Ehm… how long have you been there?"

"Long enough, I believe," she shrugged. "I can´t believe you did not notice I was here!"

"It is because we are trying to solve a puzzle. Help us, please. Do you know anything? What do you think is happening, Fräulein?"

"Oh, Brigitta, I…" He looked at them, fourteen pairs of eyes, with colors ranging from the light brown of their mother, to their father´s deep blue color. "I don´t think there is anything you should worry too much about," she said, with as much honesty as she could muster, trying to sound like her cheerful old self. "I also think that we should not unduly speculate about the poor Baroness. I am sure there is a reasonable explanation for her departure… That is, if she has indeed left us."

"Yes, but don´t you think there is anything strange going on?" Brigitta insisted.

"Strange? What do you children mean by that?"

"O_dd._ Even you are not the same, Fräulein. You are not singing anymore… You are not even arguing with father all the time."

"Only because I have a bit of a sore throat," Maria explained. Her throat was indeed raw and sore, but it was not usually the kind of thing that would keep her from singing, or, at least, trying to. For the first time in her life, she was not in the mood to indulge herself in her favorite past time, and not without reason.

Louisa continued. "The _evil Baroness _is missing..."

"Missing?" Maria tried to control the timbre of her voice.

"She disappeared. Vanished," added Kurt.

"Mmmm…" Maria began, trying to hide her uneasiness by pretending to rearrange some books on the table. "She is not _evil_, Louisa. A little bit arrogant and snobbish, perhaps, but it is just… the way she was brought up. You can't blame her for that, as much as you can't blame me for being the way I am."

There – at least she was honest. She firmly believed what she had told the children. Maybe she should hate the Baroness, but she did not, even after their conversation the night of the party. In a way, the woman was trapped in her own world, just as Maria was. The difference was that she was more sophisticated, so that she knew what she wanted, knew how to fight for it and had better means to succeed. Their conversation the night of the ball was a painful reminder of that.

"Fräulein, what do you think happened to the Baroness?" a small voice asked.

"Oh, Gretl, I believe she went to see her mother, who happens to be very sick. Isn´t that what Frau Schmidt said?"

"Does that mean that she won´t be our new mother?" Marta asked, expectantly.

"I don´t…"

"Because we don´t need a new one. We only need you, Fräulein Maria, and you are back to stay now, aren´t you? Father does not need to marry her anymore. He does not need to marry anyone!"

"Yes, we should tell him that. Maybe he will change his mind now that Fräulein Maria will stay _forever_," said Gretl.

_Forever…_

The word hit her like a brick in the head.

Maria bit her lower lip. Her heart ached for the children, especially the little ones, but she knew now that there would be a day when it would not be possible for her to stay. Before that happened, she would have to tell them that she would not be with them_ forever._ She must prepare them for that, it would be unfair to let them live with the illusion that she was back to stay. But before she could say anything, Louisa began to speak.

"I still can't picture her as our mother," she said forlornly. "I would not mind it if she were gone. I don´t think I want a new mother either. Everything is fine the way it is now, I don´t want any more changes. We´ve had enough of those in the past years, and they were never for the best."

"Yes, I don´t think I want any changes either," said Friedrich, frowning.

"And I am not sure I would like to see another woman in mother´s place, whoever she was," added Brigitta.

Maria felt her chest tightening, but she still did her best to set the children´s mind at ease.

"Children, no one will ever take your mother's place, either in your hearts, and, most of all, in your father's heart. There is no need to fear that."

"Yes, but what if he falls in love again?" asked Liesl, challengingly. Maria dropped the pile of books she was holding, mumbling a self deprecatory remark as she bent down to retrieve them. Friedrich rushed to help her.

"What if? It could happen - couldn´t it?" Liesl insisted.

"Yes, it could! Remember the night of the party?" said Brigitta, and Maria braced herself for the worst, holding her breath. "All those beautiful women hovering around him, whispering about how _handsome_ he was. Even if the Baroness is gone, what if one day he decides he likes one of the other women _more_ than he ever liked her?"

Maria let out a sigh of relief – apparently the children were still clueless about the Captain´s interest on her in particular, in spite of their dance together.

"You know nothing, Brigitta! You´ve been reading too many silly love stories, that is _your_ problem," Friedrich censored her.

Maria decided to put an end to their disturbing debate before it took a dangerous turn.

"Children, children! Please, what you must remember at all times I that wherever your mother is, I don't think she would want to see her family unhappy, especially you all. Your father knows that very well, I suppose. You must at least try to accept and respect his choice for a wife, because deep in my heart I know that he believes he is doing what is best not only for him but for you as well."

"But we will never be happy with Baroness Schraeder_,_" Kurt said.

"Oh, you can't know that, can you, Kurt? Do you know what I think? You certainly did not appear to be happy about having me as a governess when I first arrived, and look how everything worked just fine. Hmm… I think…"

"Yes, Fräulein?"

"I think you should give the Baroness a chance. Just like you gave me a chance. Remember that?"

"Yes, but you did _not_ come here to marry our father; you were just going to be our _governess_. She is marrying father and she will become our mother!" Marta spoke up.

Maria interrupted. "Well, that is fair enough. However, the Baroness needs time. She is not used to children, least of all children as spirited as you are. It is quite a change for her too."

"But you were not used to children when you first came," Brigitta observed. "You knew nothing of being a governess, you said so yourself. And you had us all in the palm of your day in less than a day."

"Oh did I?" Maria crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the group of children, challenging." "What about the frog, the pinecone, the blue water, the spiders, my hat on top of a tree… and my wimple in the flagpole. Do I have it all in the right order? It took some time for the pranks to stop, for all of you to accept me."

"But you had never even been a governess before," Gretl repeated.

"Yes, I learned quickly, I admit that, but it still took me a couple of weeks. The same will happen to the Baroness, you´ll see. She´ll learn to be a mother. Just promise me you will all try to give her a chance. For me."

"All right."

"I guess so."

"Yes."

They did not sound convincing, but that would have to do for the moment, Maria thought. It was the one mission left for her to accomplish in that house. To make sure the children would be all right and accept their father´s new wife, no matter what happened. With that thought, once more she felt more stable again.

At least for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****5**

**ooo**

_**A/N: A little bit of the Captain´s POV, then the scene in the nursery continues. Thank you for reviewing:-) Have fun!**_

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**ooo**

"_**Real love is a pilgrimage. It happens when there is no strategy, but it is very rare because most people are strategists."**_

_**Anita Brookner**_

_**ooo**_

"_Elsa..."_

_"Yes, Georg?"_

_"It's no use ... you and I. I'm being dishonest to both of us... and utterly unfair to you. When two people talk of marriage..."_

_"No, don't. Don't say another word, Georg, please. You see, uh, there are other things I've been thinking of. Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You're, um, you're much too independent and I - I need someone who needs me desperately. Or at least, needs my money desperately. I've enjoyed every moment we've had together. I do thank you for that. Now, if, um, if you'll forgive me, I'll go inside, pack my little bags, and return to Vienna where I belong. And somewhere out there is a young lady who I think ... _will never be a nun_."_

No, Maria would never be a nun, at least if it depended on Georg von Trapp. He knew that, always known that, even when he still had no clue about the true nature of his own feelings.

After Elsa left him, with a heartfelt "_Auf wiedersehen_",he ran to join Maria in the gazebo, but she was no longer there. The rain was already falling heavily, and probably she had decided to do the sensible thing and retire for the night. An inner voice advised him to do the same, although he knew only too well how _his_ night would be: sleepless and restless, pacing around the thick carpet of his study, cursing himself for his miserable failures, plotting new strategies, as if, with Maria, any careful planning would ever work. The perspective of another rough night got even worse when, as soon as he entered the house again, Franz told him that there was already another phone call from Agathe´s mother waiting for him.

Without even bothering to reply to his butler, he marched briskly towards his study, muttering a few curses under his breath. Frances Whitehead could not have picked the worst time to pursue her latest hobby – to meddle in his personal affairs, more specifically, his love life. He had not minded it before, choosing to solemnly ignore her. But now he had Maria to worry about. Although she had clearly shown him in innumerous occasions before how exceptionally good she was at defending herself, her tactics somehow failed when she had dealt with Elsa. But Elsa, as sophisticated as she was, was not nearly as manipulative as his mother-in-law. And Maria, he hated to admit, was in a fragile state of mind right now. He hated to see her so weakened, but he had to admit that was exactly what was happening. Unless his future bride – so he hoped – found within herself some source of inner strength, she would be no match for Gromi manipulative skills.

He had been warned – the next phone call would come with an ultimatum. However, Georg von Trapp was and had never been the kind of man who liked to be told what to do. He merely stared at the telephone for a few moments, savoring the small advantage he now had over his opponent. He even allowed himself the pleasure of grinning wickedly. Frances Whitehead was about to have a little shock.

"_I broke my engagement with Elsa ten minutes ago,_" he informed curtly as soon as he picked up the receiver. No, it was certainly _not_ the kind of news that the woman would be hoping to hear. Quite the opposite, actually.

Her reaction did not disappoint him – total, absolute shock. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and then nothing. After a minute, he even thought that the telephone connection was lost.

Finally, she started speaking again. Interrupting her would be useless, so he let her vent. He knew all the accusations by heart she spat at him only too well, he had heard them over and over again more than two decades ago, when Frau Whitehead made her thoughts about him clear enough – the was not highborn enough for his daughter. Naturally she came to accept him and bless their marriage, especially after he was awarded that accursed medal and title, but the strain had remained there, just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed again.

Now it was the time.

"_I want to see and judge this unfortunate situation with my own eyes, Georg; otherwise I shall not believe it. Maybe I´ll be able to talk some sense into you_, _and keep you from disgracing not only the Trapp family, but the Whitehead family name as well,_" she had practically yelled at him, angrily, on the phone – the polished British lady who rarely raised her voice any more than necessary.

"_Whatever you have gotten yourself into, I won´t allow you to insult my daughter´s memory_. _I´ll be in Aigen in two days – earlier than that, if possible. Meanwhile, _please_, keep this dreadful news to yourself._" She had hung up before he could answer her, but answer her he would.

Fine, let her come and see for herself. But there was no way he would allow her to offend him or Maria in any way.

Grimly, he wondered what other little events would conspire against him and Maria, what else would happen to keep them apart. The timing could not possibly have been worse – with Frances Whitehead in the house, there was no way he would be able to approach Maria the way he wanted to. That meant a few more days to add to their angst – his and hers – and there was nothing that could be done about it.

There were also, of course, _the children_ to be considered.

It was because of them that he made the decision to keep the _dreadful news_ to himself. Right now it had become more or less a tactical necessity, a decision he had made as soon as the engagement was broken. When he had announced his upcoming marriage to the Baroness to the children, he had acted impulsively. He was struggling against his feelings for Maria – a lost battle he was stubbornly determined to win at all costs. So, he had rebelled. Things would have been much easier now if he had never said a word to the children in the first place. They barely had the time to adjust to the idea of him being married again, now he had to tell them that no, he was not getting married anymore. Not to the Baroness, at least, but to Maria, their former governess - if she gave him the honor of becoming his wife.

He had no doubt she would!

As he had no doubt that, as his sons and daughters were concerned, he had to expect… the _unexpected_. He could not predict their reaction, and this was only one of the many concerns he had in mind. Marta and Gretl barely had any memories of Agathe, he was sure they would immediately accept Maria, since she was the closest to a mother they had never knew. Kurt and Brigitta were somehow an enigma to him, they could react either away. As for the three eldest… something told him that there might be a little trouble. Realistically, it would be naïve of him to expect that all seven of them would be instantly thrilled with the prospect of his marriage to Maria. No, he had to be prepared. _They_ had to be prepared.

Yes, Maria would suffer, he would suffer, but his children had already suffered enough. He had no choice.

He had to wait a few days.

The arrangements for Elsa´s departure kept him busy the following morning. Naturally the gentleman he was demanded that he offered to drive her to Vienna himself, but she firmly refused, saying that a first class compartment at the train that left Salzburg at noon would do just fine. He called the station first thing in the morning, but the train was already full, all first class cabins had been booked. Next he had to make use of some of his connections to finally get Elsa her luxury compartment and drive her to the station in time to catch the train. When he returned to Aigen, it was already two in the afternoon. He was informed that the children and their governess were in the nursery. Eager to see Maria, to hear the sound of her voice, he climbed the stairs, two steps at once, under Franz´s shocked gaze.

The scene that greeted Captain von Trapp when he entered the nursery was one that could only be described as domestic bliss – a startling contrast with the emotional havoc he felt inside. The realization came as a small shock to him also because it was oddly similar, and yet, strikingly different from similar situations in the past.

The room was brighter, lighter, in spite of the gray weather outside. The children were older, of course, and obviously their mother wasn´t there with them. Instead, there was a certain trim young governess, sent to him by the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey.

She also happened to be the woman he loved.

There was an ethereal aura of peace around her that soothed his spirit, and made him feel lighter and breathe a little easier. The enormity of what he had done when he had said goodbye to Elsa at the train station suddenly hit him. Only then, when he saw Maria surrounded by his children was that he felt that a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulder.

"_I am a free man!"_

There was nothing holding him back now. Nothing would have the power to keep him away from the woman he loved. No Baronesses, no nuns – not even one hundred mother-in-laws coming for an unexpected visit to _talk some sense into him_. Frances Whitehead would soon find out that he would be the one giving her a piece of his mind. It was all only a matter of time. Everything would be fine.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Maria, slowly, he took in all the details of the scene, savoring it as if it were an art painting in an exhibition. Liesl sat by the window, watching the falling rain, with a wistful look in her face, certainly dreaming about telegram deliverers, he thought, grimacing. Brigitta was reading, as usual, and next to her, Louisa, with the usual frown marring her face, was writing with fury. The boys were sitting on the floor, Friedrich helping Kurt to stage a military battle with their toy soldiers. Marta and Gretl sat at the table, one in each side of Maria. They were drawing. Marta seemed very concentrated in what she was doing, and had even circled the paper she was working on with open books, so that no one could take a peek. Gretl, on the other hand, looked frustrated, and was complaining about the fact that she was unable to draw a kitten.

"_Why aren´t they singing?_" he asked himself, when his eyes fell upon Maria´s guitar, now decorated with rainbow colored ribbons that he knew were a gift from the girls, apparently forgotten in a corner of the room.

The answer came to him when he heard the governess speak for the first time. Her voice was a bit hoarse, raspy, and he grimaced – apparently, the stressful events of the past two weeks had taken their toll in her health, even though she denied the fact at first.

"Let us do it together, Gretl. I know a good way," she said, starting to draw something in Gretl´s notebook. "You see, it is easier if you try to think about what you are drawing as circles, squares and triangles… There! You see how fun it is?" She had her back to him, but she could tell that she was making a circle on the paper. Marta raised her eyes from her own secret project.

It was then that Brigitta noticed his silent, albeit breathless, presence by the door.

"Father!" she exclaimed, surprised.

With the corner of his eyes, he saw Maria tensing. She stood up and turned around to face him. He saw the lovely blush tint her pale face. There was a smudge of purple paint on her nose, and ached to brush it away. Still, when her eyes met his, but then she immediately averted her gaze. Yet, he was relieved to see that she looked better, healthier, and no longer the ghost he had confronted the day before.

"Fräulein?"

"Yes?" she reluctantly looked up at him again. He tapped his own nose lightly. She got the message. "Ooh," she moaned, wiped away the ink stain on her face. "I´m sorry. Thank you. May I… Ehrm… Is there anything you want, Captain?"

"Do carry on, please. I have no wish to interrupt you," he said, and she visibly relaxed, only to stiffen slightly again, when he approached the table. "What do we have here?"

"Father?"

"Yes, Liesl?"

"What did Gromi want _again_?"

"Did somebody die?"

"Is grandfather insisting that you take that commission offered by the British Navy again?"

"No Kurt, no one _died_. Friedrich, your grandfather won´t stop pestering me about taking the command of one of His Majesty´s submarines until one of us stops breathing. I am tempted to say no until _I_ stop breathing, so yes, we are at war. That is not, however why your grandmother has been calling."

Yes – he decided – it would be easier if he stayed as close to the truth as possible.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, darling. Your dear Gromi is coming for a visit tomorrow, and will be staying a few days," he said bleakly. He turned to Maria, then, while the children could not hide their excitement with the news. "I just wanted _you_ to make sure that they look - uh – _presentable_ by the time she arrives tomorrow. You know – no old curtains or tablecloths, please," he winked

"Certainly, Captain," she replied, a bit flustered. At the same time, he detected a little sign of relief in her voice as well. She certainly felt more comfortable in her old _governess_ role.

"Does that mean we´ll have to wear the sailor suits again?" asked Marta, pouting.

"No, there is no need of that. I just don´t want you to look like hoydens, that is all." He looked at Maria, and smiled. She did not smile back; instead she kept on chewing her lower lip, as if she too was trying to guess the consequences of Gromi´s visit.

While Georg could hardly avoid showing his displeasure, the children, fortunately, were happy with the news. They were understandably fond of their maternal grandparents, particularly their grandmother. The reason was obvious: during the years when he had distanced himself from them, she had probably been their only source of affection.

"Now _that_ is taking care of," he said scathingly. "What are you girls up to?" he asked, pushing the thoughts about his mother in law aside while trying to peek over Maria´s shoulder to look at their drawings. Marta immediately hid hers with both hands.

"Mine is a surprise, father. You can´t see it yet."

"Mmm," he muttered.

"Fraülein Maria just showed me how to draw a kitten," said Gretl. "Look!" she showed her first attempt proudly.

"That is just lovely, darling!"

"That does not look like a kitten," said Kurt, critically. "It is just a volley ball with ears. Where are the whiskers?"

"It _is_ a kitten! There are no whiskers because I haven´t finished yet," Gretl protested. "Isn´t that right, Fräulein?"

"Of course, Gretl. I´ll show you how to draw the whiskers now."

"I think I will give it to Gromi when she comes," the little girl said.

Georg turned his attention to the boys, and looked at the battle they were staging with critical eyes.

"Father, where _is_ the Baroness?" Louisa prodded.

"She is on the way to Vienna, I should think..."

"She won´t be here to see grandmother!"

"Obviously not."

"Is it true that her mother is ill?"

"I have no idea, Brigitta. I have no idea" he said, distractedly, watching the boy´s game intently. "Now, Friedrich, you should know you will never win a battle like that."

"Why not?" his son asked.

Impulsively, he did something he had not done in years – he sat on the floor, between Kurt and Friedrich. With the corner of his eyes, he saw Maria´s eyes widening. And he proceeded to tell his sons in detail, noticing how they glowed with the special attention he was giving them. Stealing a glance at Maria, he caught her staring at them, mesmerized, her mouth agape. For the briefest moment, he was tempted to ask her, once more, why she was staring at him, but this time the reason seemed to be quite obvious. Undoubtedly she was trying to digest the fact that he was sitting on the carpet and playing war games with his boys. It was that, or the fact that he seemed to care so little about his fiancée and her supposedly mother – the weak but so far effective little excuse he came up with to explain her sudden departure to Frau Schmidt. He could have told her that playing with the children that way was something he did often while Agathe was alive, but it was one side of him that she had hardly glimpsed yet. In fact, it was a side of him he had believed completely dead until very recently. He couldn´t however, resist provoking her, just a little.

"Is there something amiss… _Fräulein_?"

"Oh no, nothing at all!" was her immediate reply. "It is just that…"

"Fräulein, look! I´m finished," said Marta, showing her the drawing she had kept hidden from everyone else.

"So this is what you were so secretive about. Oh Marta, that is beautiful," Maria said, taking the paper from her hands. "Children, come and have a look at this," she addressed the others. Only Louisa answered to her summon and gazed at Marta´s work – still hidden from his view briefly. His usually guarded daughter seemed genuinely impressed, which was enough to make him curious as well.

"Very good. I don´t remember being to good when I was six," was Louisa´s surprisingly positive critical review.

"That is because I am _seven_," announced Marta, in a censorial tone.

"May I see it?" he asked, getting up, and walking around Maria, so that he was standing behind her. Perhaps he came too close for comfort, closer than propriety demanded – yet, he did not care anymore. If everything went according to his plans, in the near future, he would be much closer to her at all times, and she could have to get used to it, get used to him. To stand so close, to have him touch her. If he only tilted his head, he would be able to bury his nose in her soft hair and drown in her fresh, flowery perfume.

"Of course, Captain. Here," she said shakily, stepping away from him and placing the drawing on the table. He noticed that her hands shook slightly, and wondered if she wasn´t feverish, since her voice told him that she, at least, had a cold.

He had to admit – his children had a way of surprising him at the oddest times. It had been little Marta´s turn that day. Her drawing, although childlike as expected from her age, was incredibly detailed.

"Look, father, I drew your submarine. The big one," she said. And there it was, floating on a bright blue sea. Attracted by the word "submarine", Kurt came to look at it as well.

"It is _not_ under water," the boy sneered, noting the obvious.

"It is because we are having a picnic on top of it," explained Marta. "Look, I drew all of us. Father, Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Brigitta, Kurt, me – with my pink parasol – and Gretl. And Fräulein Maria is singing for us."

"What is that angel doing there?" asked Brigitta. It was the question he was afraid to ask, because he knew exactly who the dark haired angel was meant to be.

"That´s mother," Marta replied. "She is watching over us, as you said she would always be."

"Where is the Baroness?" asked Gretl.

Marta did not even blink. "She is inside, taking her beauty sleep."

The other children laughed.

"Really? I thought she was on her way to Vienna," Louisa said ironically, and the scowl he was going to fire at his daughter immediately soft when he heard Maria´s barely repressed chuckle.

"Oh Marta, this is just wonderful. The best you have done so far. We should have it framed," Maria eloquently began to compliment Marta on her work.

"You can do that, if you want to, Fräulein Maria," the little girl said.

"What do you mean, darling?"

"I made this for you, so that you never forget us when you go back to the Abbey."

Georg had been looking at Maria face them, so he could watch her reaction. She was as touched as she was surprised. There was little doubt to him that she had not received a gift in quite a while – maybe never. There had been the little anchor pin he now had in his pocked, but she had earned that in that treasure hunt, so that it hardly qualified as a gift. Her reaction turned to sheer shock, clearly etched in her expressive face, when Marta stood on her tiptoes and kissed her right cheek.

Whether it was the gift or the kiss – he did not know. The fact was that Fräulein Maria was rendered completely speechless. He did not have it in his heart to admonish Marta for her spontaneous gesture, not at the moment.

"Fräulein?" Liesl inquired gently.

She smiled. "Thank you, Marta. I shall treasure it always," she said truthfully. He wasn´t sure if her voice was hoarse because of the cold she had caught, of if she was moved by Marta´s gesture.

"Maria," he said. The children were not too busy now, in a little competition to see if any of them could do a better drawing than Marta, so that he doubted that they noticed he had used her first name. If it depended on him, he would never call her _Fräulein_ again.

"Yes?" she looked at him, and this time his gaze held hers. None of them was able to look away. "_Captain_?" she repeated, stressing the word.

"_She certainly knows how to deliver a blow,_" he brooded. "_I use her first name and she answers it by that infernal "_Captain_" of hers._"

"I… uh… would you come to my study for a moment, please. I need to speak to you." His words attracted the children's attention. They stopped what they were doing to stare at them. Immediately, he reassured them. "Maria is not in trouble, children. I am _not_ sending her away." Still, they all looked at him suspiciously.

"_What a little army she has to protect her!_" he thought, amusedly. "I promise, I´ll lock her in the attic to keep her from leaving us, if necessary." Amused, he heard Maria letting out an outraged little moan. "Right now, I only need five minutes of her time."

Maria, encouraged by the children's silent support, faced him defiantly.

"Why?" she asked, distrustfully.

"Why?" he echoed back, exasperated.

"Why do you need me?" she clarified. A simple question, yet one with one hundred hidden meanings that Maria, in her basic innocence, was still unable to grasp. The fact that she was not even blushing she spoke told him as much.

"_Why do I need you_…" he savored the words slowly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Now she blushed, and fidgeted uncomfortably. "I need you for many things, but right now for a very specific reason. As I said, you forgot something when you left for the Abbey, and I only wished to give it back to you."

"Oooh! I did?"

"However, since my children are so reluctant to part from your company, I think I can very well do this here." He took the small blue velvet box from his pocket, and gave it to her. She made no motion to reach for the box. She was clearly bewildered, as if this was the last thing she would expect from him. "It is your little anchor. I am asking you to take it back," he commanded softly (1).

"Oh no, not again!" He heard the exclamation behind him.

"What is it, Brigitta?"

"You are not going to do the same thing you did after the treasure hunt, are you?"

"What did I do, poppet?"

"You were supposed to pin the brooch to her dress, not just _give_ it to her like that. Now you are doing it again."

"Yes, she is right," Louisa said. "We won that game brilliantly, and thanks to Fräulein Maria. She should have had all the honors." Then she provoked him further. "The Emperor did not just _give_ you the Maria-Theresien Cross, did he? It was pinned to your uniform during a ceremony. Mother told me how it was."

"_Louisa_…" he thought, casting his daughter a cautionary glance.

"Yes, father, that was a terrible break in protocol," Liesl agreed.

"Unforgivable!"

"Mother would be appalled."

"So would the Emperor!"

"He would, wouldn´t he?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Very well, I think I can easily fix that." He turned to face Maria, who was watching the scene in complete silence, with a mystified look in her face.

"Captain, really, you don´t have to…"

"O-ho, but I insist!" He opened the box and took the glittering diamond pin in his hand. He walked towards her. Maria held her ground firmly, even though he could read it in her eyes that all she wanted to do was run. "Allow me."

She bit her lips and held her breath as he pinned the brooch to her dress, above her left breast, even though he hardly touched her at all.

"Look, her face is all red again," Brigitta commented, laughing.

"_Brigitta!"_

"_Brigitta!"_

Georg and Maria exclaimed at the same time – he censorial, her alarmed. The other children laughed.

"I guess I am just not used to being… _decorated_," Maria whispered.

He could not help it – he smiled at her, the same intimate, private smile he had graced her with not long ago she said she was not used to dancing. It wasn´t dancing, however, he was referring to when he uttered his parting words to her, just before he marched to the door.

"Get used to it!"

_A/N: (1) "Treasures"._


	7. Chapter 7

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****6**

**OOO**

_**A/N: 1. I hope you´ll enjoy this one - enters the mother-in-law. There is a little inspiration from the German movie "Die Trapp Familie" in some of the dialogues in this chapter. 2. A big THANK YOU to all of you reviewers, especially to AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed (I hope your got your night right:-)). I accepted her suggestion and posted the reading order of my stories in my profile. You will also find it in my fan fiction forum - the link can also be found in my profile. Since there are some particularities about my stories and the way I portray some characters, I will add something about that in the future as well. After 3-4 years writing TSOM fan fiction, I created my little "TSOM world", and sometimes I forget it can be slightly different from the way some people interpret the movie.**_

_**OOO**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own "The Sound of Music" or "Die Trapp Familie", etc...**_

_**OOO**_

_**If you do not the expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.**_

_**Heraclitus**_

_**OOO**_

_**No one gossips about other people's secret virtues. **_

_**Bertrand Arthur William Russell**_

_**OOO**_

_**Trying to squash a rumor is like trying to unring a bell. **_

_**Shana Alexander**_

_**OOO**_

It was late at night when Frances Whitehead arrived unexpectedly. Her intention of taking Georg by surprise had been quite obvious and she was not planning to hide that from anyone. When she found her son-in-law very much alone in the quietude of his study, she had barely been able to hide her disappointment.

"And where is the… the charming _young lady_?" was all she could ask, after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries and he had inquired about his father-in-law-s failing health. Her sharp eyes scanned every little corner of the room, trying to find a small hint of a female presence there.

She found none.

She had been inside that intimidating masculine room many times before. While Agathe was alive, their framed wedding picture would always be in his desk. It was still there only days after the funeral. She could not longer see it now – his desk was neatly organized, but the photograph was gone, so it was inevitable that she wondered when and why it was removed.

"What have you done with the wedding photograph?" she asked him, before he had a chance to answer her first question.

Georg von Trapp´s next words immediately proved to her that he would not be outsmarted at all, and that he would not be willing to reveal to her more than he thought she should know.

"May I ask to which charming _young lady_ you are referring to?" he fired back immediately, in that elegant, biting tone that he was so famous for, and that had caused her daughter fall in love with him only after a few exchanged words.

His striking good looks and personality were a dangerous combination that few women could resist, and it was no wonder that some young governess had been so smitten. If one added to it his status as a national hero of Austria his appeal was not merely dangerous, but lethal to any healthy female's psyche. It crossed her mind that, personality and military feats aside, considering her son in law's appearance alone, if Agathe saw him today, she would fall in love with him all over again. Time had been too kind to Georg von Trapp – he still stood tall and elegantly fit. Age had only accentuated his handsome masculine features adding a touch of gray in his rich dark brown hair. That poor, innocent and seemingly impressionable convent girl would not have stood a chance, and the least she could do would be to sympathize with her, at least in that respect.

_He_, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

Agathe had always told her that Georg knew very well of his appeal to women and that he had used it quite well when he had fallen in love with her.

"_Yes, mother. __He was quite a rake, but I have reformed him!" _Agathe would say to her amusingly.

In truth, as zealous as they were, the Whiteheads had been a little concerned when the dashing young Captain started to court their youngest daughter. Although they were of similar age, Georg was years ahead of Agathe in terms of experience. He had been at sea most of his life, he had seen wars. Although they knew that he had never quite lived up to the "_a women in every port_" stereotype, it was known for a fact that there had been women, which she thought it was only natural for a man of his appeal. Soon enough, they would be forced to recognize that their daughter could not have made a better match, even if by the time they were engaged, Georg von Trapp lacked the nobility title she had always dreamed about for her daughters. His character was without blemish, his career brilliant for a man of such a young age. They never doubted that in time he would reach the highest possible ranks of the Imperial Navy, and it had been unfortunate that the war had ended so disastrously for Austria.

Frances knew that he had been nothing but an exemplary husband, and that, except for the first few awkward months while she was still adjusting to the novelties of married life, Agathe had been nothing but happy with him. _Blissfully happy_, as she would say whenever asked. After her premature death, even while drowning himself in grief, and perhaps exactly because of that, he had tried to go back to his old seaman's ways, so to speak. She could not help but wonder if seducing young governesses fresh from the convent was part of the entire grieving process.

Oh well, of course it was none of her business.

At least in theory…

With Agathe gone, she had no right to interfere in her son-in-law's life, not right to voice any opinions about whom he should or should nor marry, least of all, no right to question his choice of mistresses. Nevertheless, she did have every right to demand to be heard about any decision of his that was likely to affect her grandchildren – Agathe´s own flesh and blood. _Her _own flesh and blood. It was the children and only the children, she was concerned with, and she would do anything in her power to protect them.

When Elsa called her only two weeks ago, ecstatically happy with the news of their engagement, she had been incredibly relieved. Elsa von Schraeder was more than just the right woman for him, she was downright _perfect_. The children would be well provided for, and not only that – apart from the von Trapp and the Whitehead name, they would also count on the von Schraeder name to assure their brilliant future. Elsa was the most natural choice for a second wife that she could think of. The only choice and Georg, clever as he was, had realized that. It seemed that things were finally back on track again, and that the trauma of Agathe´s loss was finally behind them all.

When Elsa called for the second time, their world had simply crumbled, their castles in the air shattered. Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp was _not_ marrying Baroness Elsa von Schraeder, _née_ Countess Enns. He had just broken up their engagement of only a few days because he was involved with…

_His children's governess!_

She eyed Georg rather skeptically.

No, she was not going to waste any time stating the purpose of her visit with her usual blunt honestly.

"Which charming young woman, you ask? The one whom, I must confess, I was expecting to find here, sitting in your lap with her arms wrapped around your neck."

"Gromi," he said in a censorial tone.

"The one who is making you act like a hormone driven young sailor with a woman in every port. I can certainly understand why a convent girl nearly two decades younger than you are would be so smitten, but _you_! Honestly, Georg, I thought you had more self control. Don't you think about the children?"

For a moment she thought she had hit her mark with her comments, as he stared back at her, his well shaped eyebrows raised in surprise. Almost immediately she saw something else in his face other than a silent warning – anger.

"Madam Whitehead…" he began, resorting to a formal treatment she did not remember him using with her since before his marriage to Agathe. There was a clear warning in the way he said her name, which clearly achieved its purpose – yes, she had gone too far already, and he was advising her to stop, or, at least, to slow down before he had a chance to defend himself, and, perhaps, the _charming young lady_ in question.

But _no_, she would not give him an inch. She would not admit defeat so easily.

"I am sorry, that _may_ have been uncalled for. I will not apologize for my words, but let me rephrase that. I want to se her with my own eyes. I want to talk to her. The _young lady_ who caused you to break your engagement to one of Austria's most distinguished ladies and one of Agathe´s best friends."

He chuckled. The infuriating man dared to laugh at her!

"Oh, _that_ young lady."

"Georg, you have no idea how serious about this I am!"

"O-ho you are, aren´t you?"

She did not wait for him to continue. She was in a hurry to say what she wanted to say. The words were making her choke, and she wanted them out.

"It _is_ true! My goodness, I was not completely sure until this moment, but now… Elsa has rang me this morning, in tears and told me everything but I still refused to believe it."

"Gromi, I refuse to believe that Elsa would call you _in tears,_ as you say it. It is just not like her. You know her better than I do. She is much too proud."

"Very well. She was not crying, but she was very, very upset."

"She was not upset when she left here. To break the engagement was the best for both of us, and we both agreed about that. It was a mutual decision."

"Oh you _men_," Frau Whitehead exclaimed. "Naturally she would not break down in front of you, of all people. Not Elsa."

"What has she told you?" he asked, cautiously.

"She told me enough. _More_ than enough. It was easy to guess the rest."

"Whatever it is that you are guessing, you are guessing it wrong. You have no idea…"

She did not allow him to finish.

"Georg, you are a _von Trapp_! A Baron and a Captain of the Austro-Hungarian Imperial and Royal Navy. A Knight of the Order of Maria-Theresia!" He raised his eyes heavenward in mock supplication, but she ignored him. "Gentlemen like you do not… roll in the hay with _governesses_!"

Now she had clearly angered him. His hands clenched into fists, as he stood up to face her. His blue eyes were now so dark that they became almost black. If she were any other person, any other woman, she had little doubt that he would have punched his desk with all his force. If she were a man, he would punch _her._

His words, however, were entirely unexpected.

"Her name is _Maria_," he stated passionately.

The way he said that name – _Maria_ – it should have been enough to tell her all she needed to know. But it didn't, and stubborn as she was, she was not ready yet to give up confronting him.

"I am not _rolling in the hay_ with her. You are quite right, I _am_ a gentleman, and I take pride in being one," he said, sitting down in his chair again. "And because of that simple irrefutable fact I refuse to allow you to say anything about matters who are absolutely none of your concern, and that you know absolutely nothing about."

"Georg…"

"I also refuse to listen to you while you offend someone who is under my protection, someone who lately has become a part of my family, and someone who is _absolutely_ without blame."

"Yes, yes, I know the entire sad story; you can spare me of the details."

"No, no. I assure you don't even know half of it."

"Allow me to correct myself yet again. I take back what I said just now. Yes, you are a gentleman, Georg, a veritable Knight. You just proved it to me by defending the _damsel in distress _with as much passion as you defended Austria_._"

"You should have told me you were coming tonight, I was not expecting you," he said softly instead. Apparently, he was putting of the battle for the moment. "Not until tomorrow afternoon, at least."

"Of course you were not. You know me, Georg. I like surprises."

"I had forgotten," he said between clenched teeth.

"Yes, you seem to have forgotten many things lately, haven't you?"

"What the devil you mean by _that_?" he spat.

"Honestly, I don't care what you do with your life, I am not the least interested to know how many women you take to your bed, Captain. Your rakish lifestyle in Vienna never bothered me in the least, although I admit I was glad Elsa rescued you from just it in time. I still don't care how many sweet young governess fresh out of the convent you deflower." She smiled, smugly when he visibly winced when she used that old-fashioned, but very explicit term. "But I certainly care very much about my daughter's memory and, above all, my grandchildren. This can't be happening _under their roof_! It is more than scandalous, it is… it is… _indecent_!"

"It is _not_ happening," he barked.

There he was – Georg had always been formidable in his anger. Unlike most men and women, she was never intimidated by it, as her daughter never was.

"Leave _my children_ out this! I have done nothing to disrespect them, and least of all their mother's memory."

"Her name is _Agathe,_" she provoked him, using the same phrase he had used before when he said the governess's name for the first time.

His face went livid.

His answer was a very explicit curse, which she chose to ignore. She had lived among seafaring men long enough to be offended by whatever blasphemies came out of their mouths.

"In case you are not aware of the facts yet, Captain von Trapp, _people are talking_!"

"Oh-ho, _are_ they?"

"I thought you respected my daughter's memory. Is this how you cherish the times you spent together?"

"I don't know what your sources of information are, Gromi, and frankly I am not interested to hear about them. As for what Maria and I did that particular night – we danced, that was all. I was the one who asked her to dance a Ländler with me, in front of the children and a handful of guests."

"You danced with your governess while your fiancée was inside waiting for you! Even if that is all that happened, you should know that it would be enough to make people start talking."

Georg closed his eyes for a moment. She could tell he was weary and worn out. She could tell that he was suffering, and this time not because of her daughter. For the first time since the rumors reached her, Frances Whitehead wondered if they were entirely true. He had not even attempted to hide the fact that he did have feelings for the governess. Now, however, she admitted that she might have been wrong about the exact nature of those feelings.

His next words practically echoed her thoughts.

"All I can say now is that my feelings for Maria, whatever they are, have nothing to do with Agathe. I want that to be very clear. I know it may be difficult for you to understand – trust me; it was one hundred times more difficult for _me_ when I was forced to acknowledge them. I shall always treasure Agathe´s memory; I want you to know that. As for Maria…"

"Yes?" He sighed deeply. She could see his eyes looking everywhere but at her, searching for words that would not come to him. Words that were already there, but that maybe he still was not ready to say them. At least not to her.

"You love her!" she said him, bewildered. "At least you think you do. You are mad! Absolutely, completely insane."

He interrupted her briskly.

"Gromi, it is very late now. You are tired, and so am I. Let us have this argument some other time, after we are both rested and able to say things without offending the living – or the dead. Meanwhile, let me reassure you of something else. _Nothing untoward has happened in this house_."

_The next day…_

Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp was deeply immersed in his thoughts that it took some time for the sounds coming from the garden outside to enter his brain. His children were in the middle of a singing lesson, with Maria. The repetitive vocal exercises were sometimes interrupted by Maria in a soft spoken voice, as she coached them after playing a key in her guitar, to help them find the right note.

She was doing nothing that could lead the children to believe something was amiss and start asking her questions. It should be killing her inside, but she went on with their lively routine of singing, playing games and reading stories. How could he have expected any differently of her? Yet sometimes he wondered how much she could handle.

He certainly was in no mood to laugh, not after the brief conversation with Frances Whitehead the previous night, but the sound of her voice was enough to make him smile and let out a sight of sheer relief because it told him that, for the moment, _Maria was fine_.

In the past couple of days, it pained him to see her shattering into pieces, little by little, and he found himself constantly wondering when she would break down. He even feared Maria was going to make herself sick. Right now, for instance – she was speaking to the children, she was playing her guitar, she was teaching them, but she was not _singing_, and that alone was incredibly meaningful.

Among other things, Maria had developed an almost pathological need to avoid him at all costs, ever since she returned from the Abbey, and not entirely without reason. No, she could not blame her for that, for believing the worst of him when everyone else seemed to believe the worst of them both. Even her occasional raids to the kitchen in the middle of the night, to have a cup of tea, during which they shared many conversations in the old, peaceful days, were now a thing of the past. Now she locked herself in her room as soon as the children were in bed, to leave again only when it was time to get them ready for breakfast. During the day, she was always surrounded by a protective circle formed by his children. It was odd, but although she was living under the same roof as he was, he missed her with an intensity comparable only to the ache he had felt when he lost Agathe.

He could not help but wonder how much of the gossip had reached her ears, because he noticed that it was not only him she avoided, but the other servants as well. He never saw her chatting with Frau Schmidt or Frau Poppmeier again. He had noticed more than once when an upstairs maid looked at her with some disdain. The children were the only ones who still had her unparalleled attention.

Nothing was entirely lost, things would work out just fine, and he tried to tell himself, as the sound of her laugher reached him. Elsa was already drowning her sorrows in her Viennese salons, but there was still the issue of his mother-in-law.

Grimacing, he raised his eyes from the plans he had been carefully studying. The events of the previous days were making it impossible for him to focus in his work – he, who always prided in his power of concentration. What had his attention was a submarine he was designing. Once built by the British Royal Navy, the _HMS Whitehead _would be not the largest but certainly the fastest submarine ever constructed – at least if he was capable of fixing some nagging problems he already had detected. Georg von Trapp accepted no less than perfection. And he would succeed, only if he were able to keep his thoughts away from Maria for at least five more minutes…

Because every little equation he tried to solve, every single line he had to re-draw in order to make the boat more efficient somehow led back to her. The fact that now it was her laughter the sound he heard above all others was not helping at all. He should be irritated, he should go outside and order them to keep quiet, as he had done so many times before, but he could not help but smile.

_She was__ not yet singing, but she was laughing again today. _

It was the first time he heard the contagious sound in quite a while. In fact, he could not remember exactly when was the last time Maria had laughed like that. It still far from the unbridled, carefree laughter of her first weeks in Aigen, it was somewhat contained, even forced at times, but he welcomed the sound and let it warm his heart. There had to be some truth to the old saying after all – "_time heals all wounds_".

Some truth yes, but not all the truth. Maria would never be the same again, as he would never be the same. The only thing that he was certain would heal her now was if he went outside to join them, and afterwards, after the children were gone, if he took her by the hand, took her to the gazebo, hold her and kiss her until that hurt was gone from her eyes.

But then, last night, Frances Whitehead had made her sensational entrance.

He always got along well enough with his mother-in-law, although he did not share her view of the world. An aristocrat to boot, she was as haughty as she could be when facing someone she believed not to be up to her standards. She still lived by the same old set of preconceived ideas he had abandoned long ago, even before his marriage to her daughter. She could understand that he would lust after a governess, that he would want to bed her, but the possibility that he might actually _love_ her would hardly enter her brain. Although he could certainly understand the true reason behind her concern – the children - he was just too tired and weary to continue arguing with the woman in the middle of the night, and had put a stop to it. No, she would have to meet Maria in the morning; she would have to see with her own eyes what she had brought to his life, and to his children. Maria would charm her, as she had charmed everyone else who mattered to him.

But that too, would take time.

Naturally, the children had been delighted to see their grandmother at breakfast. It had been Liesl who had introduced Maria to her. The scene went on just as he had expected it would. Frau Whitehead had greeted Maria with little more than a haughty look and a cold "_how do you do?_" uttered in an icy cold voice. Bewildered, Maria had searched his gaze. She may not be ready yet to say the words, she may not even know yet what were the right words to say, but her gestures, her eyes, and her body language had always told him everything he wanted to know. It warmed his heart – in the midst of all that confusion, it was always to him she silently turned to for support and reassurance.

He gave it to her.

He smiled and winked at her. Before he could witness her reaction, he turned to Gromi. If she was bent on starting a battle, she would have to deal with the consequences of it. She had surely picked the wrong opponents.

"Don't worry, Fräulein," he said softly to her, while keeping his firm gaze on his mother-in-law. "Frau Whitehead is not unlike me at all – she barks, but she does not bite!"

"_Soon my love. I only need a few more days. I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'll make you understand,_" he whispered now to her in the distance, in the garden.

His submarine completely forgotten, he began to watch the scene developing outside in the garden. The children seemed to be oblivious of the chaos reigning around them. Well, not all of them. The eldest naturally sensed that _something_ was going on, and Liesl most of the times looked at him incredulously, as if she could not believe what was happening. His eldest daughter certainly had not believed his explanation about Elsa's sudden departure, and that was understandable. Of all the children, Liesl was the only one who was rather fond of the Baroness.

He chuckled when he thought what a lovely mass of contradictions Maria was. When she tried to accomplish something, she either excelled in it or caused a disaster – there was rarely any middle ground. The feelings she aroused in him were also extreme and hard to control. There was little or nothing "_average_" about Maria. In just a few weeks, she had turned his seven children into a singing group worthy of the _Festspiele_. On the other hand, her attempts at cooking, for instance, used to drive his staff to madness, to the point that once, not too long before she fled to the Abbey, the French chef Elsa he had hired for the Summer had practically _demanded_ that she should be banned from his kitchen.

"_I'll have _you_ banned from _my_ kitchen if you as much as suggest something like that again,_" he had barked back at the haughty little Frenchman.

Yet this morning, at least as far as caring for the children, it seemed that Maria had too much in her hands. The singing lesson was over, and now they were blowing soap bubbles.

His smile broadened, as the sight brought a wave of memories from his own childhood. Resisting the urge to join them became impossible, and he strode to the garden, through the open doors of his study.

"Father!" they yelled in unison.

"Fräulein Maria is teaching us how to make soap bubbles," said Marta.

Maria was not able to disguise her surprise when she saw him, and stared at him mutely, as he sat on the floor, taking a place next to her in the circle formed by the children.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked her.

"No, of course not," she replied, and she smiled at him. Suddenly, he did not care a wit what Frances Whitehead thought, he just wanted to be with Maria and his children.

"You are not doing this right," he said playfully. "Allow me." He took the small bowl of water and soap from her hands. "I will show you how it is done."

The children, as usual, were delighted to have him join in their play again after a few weeks. As much as he loved them and their warmth, it was Maria who held his attention. She was very tense at first, but slowly relaxed as he and the children began a kind of mock soap bubble contest – who blew the biggest bubble, the smallest, the most colorful, who could keep a bubble aloft for the longest time. It was amazing how creative his children could be with such simple things.

"Where is Gretl?" Maria asked all of a sudden, breaking her silence.

He straightened, alarmed, and that was enough to bring the little one into his field of vision. Apparently, little Gretl, bored with their games because of her naturally short attention spam, had whisked away quietly, carrying her bowl of soap and water, and was busy making mud pies not far away from them. Maria seemed unmindful of what Gretl was doing – and he could tell that his youngest was having _a marvelous time,_ to quote her words. He wondered how she would react when she saw the little girl covered in mud from head to toe.

"Right there," he said, pointing to his youngest one.

Maria was back to her old self in the splint of a second.

"Oohhhh… Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Both hands in her head, she stood up quickly to go after Gretl, but she had left her spot.

"Fraülein, look!"

Maria turned sharply and then she saw Gretl marching towards her grandmother, who was striding outside, elegantly attired, as if she was going to join a tea party with the Duchess of Edinburgh.

"Gromi!" Gretl was screaming. "Look, I am making mud pies!"

He knew then what Max meant by one of his favorite expressions – _fiendish delight._ That was what he was feeling, savoring the moment when his five year old would jump straight into her grandmother's arms, with a mud pie in her hands. Agathe´s mother looked utterly, absolutely appalled by the scene, her jaw dropped open.

"Good Lord," she exclaimed.

Maria was the first one to react.

"Gretl, don't!" her yelled, her voice high-pitched. "Your father will kill me if…" she moaned, as she caught his youngest just as she was a few steps away from her grandmother. She saw him then, just behind her, hands on his hips.

"Oh… Cap… tain!" she straightened to look at him. Her eyes, however, still refused to meet his. "I'm sorry, I had no idea… I mean I forgot…" Only then she realized that she hadn't acknowledged Gromi´s presence. Gromi had realized it too, and she was throwing Maria one of her best censorial looks. "Frau Whitehead," Maria nodded. "I am terribly sorry about this."

"It is not your fault, Maria," he said immediately. "_Nothing_ happened," he said, putting some emphasis in the word _nothing_ on purpose. "I was there too, and I was too distracted to notice what Gretl was up to."

"No harm done, Fräulein Maria. And yes, I could see how _distracted_ you were, Georg!" Gromi chanted, mischievously.

"Excuse me," Maria said, turning to leave. "I must see to Gretl now."

It was time for him to take command of his ship. When he did so, his speech was no different in content than the one right after the boat incident, when he had sent his children inside to clean up, get changed and report back to him. Only that, this time, it did not have the same terse, commanding tone.

"May I go with them, Captain?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Yes, Fräulein, you may certainly go with them if you wish," he said gently. Then he added. "Although I would very much like you to stay for a moment. Please." With or without his mother-in-law, he was not ready to let her out of his sight just yet.

"Yes, please Fräulein, do stay for a moment," Gromi said. "I am sure my grandchildren will survive without you for half an hour." Next to him, he saw Maria stiffen. He itched to place one arm around her shoulders, and he would do just that if his mother-in-law pushed them far enough.

"I have no idea why Georg is here, but actually, _I_ am here because I would like to have a word with _you_," she said to Maria, while looking straight at him, as if saying "_just try and stop me!_"

"With me?" Maria asked, incredulously, stealing a quick, sideways glance at him.

"Well, since our Captain has decided to grace us with his presence, I wish to talk to _both_ of you," she woman meaningfully.

"_Both…_ of us?" Maria echoed. "Why?"

"Yes, _why?_" he repeated the question, challengingly.

"You may put down your weapons, Georg. I just wanted to discuss the little dinner party we agreed to have tonight."

They had discussed Gromi´s dinner plans earlier, after breakfast. The Eberfelds were in town, and Frau Whitehead wanted to meet them. She also wanted to talk to Hans Schneider about an antique sextant her husband had brought from Paris, and that needed to be evaluated.

"_I will only be here for two days, Georg. You know John, he would never forgive me if I did not meet the Eberfelds, and he specifically recommended that I should see Hans about that hideous old sextant._"

In the end, he could not find a way to get out of it. Maybe, in the end, something positive could come out of that dinner. Maria would be among his dearest friends – Baroness Eberfeld was particularly fond of her, as she had told him in person. So were Hans and Peggy Schneider (1). The three of them would help to ease the tension, which would undoubtedly be greater if only Frances Whitehead sat at the dinner table with the family.

"What about dinner, Gromi?" he asked, his stance more relaxed now.

"I would like Fräulein Maria to be a part of it."

"That goes without saying, Gromi. Of course Maria will be a part of it."

"_Will I?_"

Maria's head snapped to look up at him. She had been literally _banished _from the dinner table once before by Elsa (2), and now just the opposite was about to happen.

"Oh, but there won't be any need for me to be there, Frau Whitehead, if the children will not attend," was Maria's firm, sure reply.

"You won't be there because of the children, but as my guest," he added, not caring how his mother-in-law's would feel about it.

"But Captain!"

He spoke directly to Maria then. "Peggy Schneider specifically asked you to be there when I rang her less than one hour ago. And you should know Baroness Eberfeld admires you a great deal, and she would like to hear more about the manner in which you taught my children how to sing."

"There, you see?" said Frau Whitehead. "You didn't think we were inviting you only so that we would not have thirteen at the table, did you? She is interested in your – uh – _methods._"

Maria looked at him, questioningly.

"My _methods?_ But Captain you know as well as I do that I have none! My mind is much too chaotic for that, you told me so yourself."

"Forget all that nonsense. My mother-in-law is British, Maria, so just humor her about this. They seem to believe that to have thirteen people sitting at the dinner table is most unlucky, and if that happens, tragedy will irrevocably strike upon the household."

"Yes, he is right, and the poor governess is usually called just to break the evil number. Not in your case, my darling, no need to fret about it. You'll most probably be our most important guest this evening. My dear, you _are_ quite a sorceress!" exclaimed Gromi, while Maria did not look exactly thrilled with the possibility.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean by that, Madame," she said cautiously.

"Yes, you do. I must say Georg did not exaggerate when he spoke about you the last time he was in Innsbruck."

Maria looked at him, a little baffled. "He did?"

"Yes, I did. Why the surprise, Fräulein?"

Her lips twitched into a smile. "I was under the impression that you considered me to be a walking disaster, Captain."

He chuckled, happy to realize that her spirit had not been quenched after all.

"Come, I'd love to hear more about you. Let us walk this way," said Frau Whitehead, and the three of them started making their way towards the lake. "I am much too curious, and I cannot wait until dinner. Have you taken care of children before?

"Not as a governess. At the orphanage, I helped the nuns with the children's choir, but I never…"

"Oh, it is too bad that you cannot stay here forever. You should know that you will be leaving behind a string of broken hearts when you leave. _One _broken heart in particular."

Maria stopped cold when she heard that, and so he did. He prepared to jump in her defense, but it proved to be unnecessary – at least for the moment. Her spirit was still very much alive. She was also too clever to fall for a trap that was so… _obvious_.

"Oh, the children should recover soon. Children always do," she replied calmly, but her voice shook slightly. Only that betrayed her distress.

"I am not talking about the children."

"I am not sure I understand."

"Oh yes, you do. Dear God, darling! You cannot be so naïve!"

"I'm not," Maria replied firmly, and he held his breath to hear what she had to say next. "I know _exactly_ what you are talking about, I just don´t understand why. I have seen what results from love."

"Then pray tell this old lady, my dear: what results from love?"

"Pain, heartbreak, and more often than not, tragedy."

He winced, wondering how on earth she had gotten that somewhat distorted view of the most supreme of human emotions. Well, he would just have to prove her wrong, wouldn´t he?"

"So if _anyone_ fancies himself in… in _love_ with me," Maria continued, "then I do not want to even _hear_ about it."

Frau Whitehead then turned to Georg.

"You see? You indent have worried about your _damsel in distress_. She knows very well how to speak for herself."

"I am not a damsel and I am not in distress!" Maria protested vehemently, with her old blunt honesty, while he did his best to shoot daggers at his mother-in-law with his eyes. There was no need for that, of course – his future bride was doing a damned good job doing just that.

"Really? I am curious about something, Fräulein. When a postulant makes her vows to become a nun, don't they usually wear a bridal gown? Am I right about that assumption?"

He braced himself – it was Gromi fighting back now.

"Yes, that is how it is done" Maria answered simply, this time apparently oblivious of what was to come, while he was already preparing himself for it.

"Gromi, please don't. I am asking you," he spoke softly.

"Will yours be _white_?" Maria let out a little shocked gasp.

Maria may be an innocent, but she was most definitely _not_ stupid.

This time he reacted before his rational mind stopped him. He placed one arm around Maria's shoulders, and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, solemnly ignoring the scandalized look in the older woman's face as he did that. He felt the full impact of Maria's tension when he touched her. She was as stiff as a board, and at the same time, he sensed that she would melt against him only if given the chance. She also did not make any attempt to escape him, and the relief was so keen when he realized that that his hold tightened.

"That would be enough," he said sternly. He looked down at Maria, who was looking straight at the elderly woman. There was anger in her eyes and the same determination he had seen there when she had yelled her head off at him the day he returned from Vienna. He was certain she intended to give Gromi a piece of her mind. She would certainly deserve it, but he had no intention of allowing things to become even worse than they already were.

"Don't say anything, Maria. You don't have to and it is just not worth it." When she lowered her eyes, defeated, he continued. "Go to the children now. I will deal with this and talk to you later," he added, realizing only too late that he had called her by her first name in public.

"Yes, _darling_, you may go now," she said to Maria, with a light, dismissive gesture.

Silently, Maria left them, without looking back.

_A/N: (1)__ Characters from "Treasures". (2) Again, "Treasures"._


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****7**

**OOO**

_**A/N: 1) Thank you for the reviews - I only wish I had the time to answer to all of you individually! Be sure that I really appreciate your words, they are really a great incentive to me. 2) Three real life love stories are mentioned in this chapter - please see the end notes for further reference.**_

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

_**"Nothing can be made out of nothing." **_

_**Shakespeare, King Lear, Act 1.4.**_

_**OOO**_

_**"You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you - and you may mark my words - you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current - as I am now. "**_

_**Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre**_

_**OOO**_

Maria still felt the warm weight of his hand on her shoulders when half an hour before the family sat at the table for lunch, Frau Whitehead called her aside and started apologizing for her behavior earlier. The lingering feeling of was both soothing and exhilarating. Those same words could certainly not be used to describe her brief conversation with the woman the von Trapp children affectionately called _Gromi._

It was a formal apology, with no more words than it was strictly necessary and Maria could easily tell that it did not come very naturally. She almost waited for Frau Whitehead to say the words "_I am doing this only because Georg has told me to._" She would not have to, her stance and tone of voice made that clear enough.

Maria, from her part, held her ground beautifully. She had not cowered during the apology; she had not lowered her eyes and dutifully said that there was nothing to apologize for, as it was probably expected of her. Instead, she had met the elderly woman's eyes and held her head high and said that she accepted her apology and that her insinuations had been not absurd, inappropriate and offensive - not only to her but also to her son-in-law as well and ultimately to the children.

As Maria was about to find out, that small act of bravery would work wonders in her favor, in spite of Frau Whitehead's initial shock when she heard such blunt words coming from a lowly governess. Surprisingly, after that, it seemed that Agathe´s mother had a change of heart, as far as her opinion about Maria was concerned.

At least momentarily…

But it was enough to make her feel a little stronger. The Captain had been right about one thing – these people could bark, but they did not bite. Ironically, all she had to do was to _be herself_, when all her life she had been told _not_ to be herself if she could avoid it.

That was, more or less, how Captain von Trapp found them, in the drawing room, just before lunch. Frances Whitehead had just digested Maria's response to her apology and now she was make an effort to engage the governess into some kind of light civilized conversation before they headed for lunch.

"Good morning, Frau Whitehead," he greeted politely. "Maria," he bowed his head to her. The sound of his voice was enough to make goose bumps travel down her arms, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered, when he came to stand next to her.

"This is _not_ getting any easier," she whispered, unable to control herself, biting her tongue in exasperation as soon as he realized he had heard her.

"Uh – did you say something?" he asked.

"No, I was just… talking to myself, Captain. As usual."

"_Oh, please do behave, Maria!_" she chastised herself. "_You just managed to put an obnoxious society woman in her place with your words. You can still handle Captain von Trapp just fine. You don't have to turn to molten jam every time you see him now, no matter how difficult it is!_"

"There is no need to glare at me, Georg. It is not my fault your… Fräulein now talks to herself whenever she pleases. _I apologized_." Frau Whitehead informed him, in a very "_upper-class_" tone of voice. "You may put down your weapons, I concede defeat. All that is left for me to do is to compliment you on your _choice_."

"My _choice_?" His voice acquired that familiar dangerous tone again.

"Your choice for a _governess,_ naturally. What did you think I had in mind?"

His reply was inaudible.

"Granted, this one is unusually outspoken for a governess and _former_ prospective nun. But she does have a lot of backbone, and that can be a remarkable quality."

"_Former?_!" Maria exclaimed before she could help herself. "Frau Whitehead, I never said I would not return to the Abbey. I will as soon as the Captain can make the arrangements for another governess."

"No, darling, you will not! I am sure my son-in-law would chain you to that lovely little gazebo of his if you as much as _considered_ the idea of leaving this house ever again in your life. There, I said it!"

Maria's jaw dropped open. She stole a glance at the Captain, and saw that he was suddenly trying to suppress a giggle. Judging by the look in his face only, it seemed that he actually _agreed_ with his mother in law for the first time since her arrival. No, he would not do that to her – would he?

"You have as much religious vocation as I do, Fräulein, and please don't take it too badly. I am sure you have been told this before. But you have something else I daresay I always admired in a woman, especially at such young age." Frau Whitehead then turned to Georg. "If she can stand up to a von Trapp _and_ a Whitehead under the same roof I am sure her virtue will be forever safe from anyone who tries to plunder it!"

"Oh dear!" Maria exclaimed, outraged.

"Mmm," was all he said, with a grimace. He looked… suspicious, to say the least.

"What is the problem now, Georg?"

"I don´t know, if there is one you must tell me. You have surrendered much too soon, Gromi. That is very much unlike you."

He looked at Maria, as if to reassure himself that Gromi´s change of heart was indeed true. It was a piercing look, as if he were trying to read into her very soul. Thankfully, she could be completely honest to him this time, without any fear. She nodded at him, still a little bewildered by Gromi´s complimentary words, and still trying to shake off the image of the Captain keeping her from leaving Aigen by locking her in the gazebo.

"She did apologize to me, Captain. And I accepted her apology, although..."

"Although she did have a few things of her own to say to me," completed Gromi.

"Hah!" he exclaimed. "She did, didn't she?"

Slowly, and in that martial manner that was so uniquely his, he walked towards the formidable elderly lady who was Agathe´s mother and stared at her for an intimidating moment before speaking.

Maria watched the developing scene with unprecedented attention. She was more than used to that demeanor by now, she knew only too well what it meant. It was _exactly_ how he would do to her when she behaved badly – at least in his opinion. This was _the_ Captain von Trapp using his best tactics to intimidate the enemy. She could not help but gloat just a little bit when she saw how well it was now working, even with a strong woman such as Frances Whitehead. It was so interesting to watch the effect from a distance, this time not being subjected to his scrutiny, but having him using those same methods not to coerce her, but in her defense – or so it seemed.

"Do tell me, please, Gromi, because I am so very curious about it… What have you and Maria been talking about after your – uh - apology?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, as I said, your darling governess did have a few things to say to me. She was rather blunt, I should add."

"I would be surprised if she acted in any other manner. I trust that you were not browbeating her again, are you?"

"_Browbeating?_ Of course not, Georg, who do you take me for? Fräulein Maria is quite capable of defending herself vehemently," she said, feigning offense.

Maria felt her chest tighten for a moment. Frau Whitehead was a clever woman, and a worthy opponent for the Captain. She would not be so easily fooled. Apparently, she was quite good in using his words against him. Because that was exactly what she tried to do next.

"What reason could I have to verbally abuse your governess? Not when you both brilliantly succeeded in convincing me, only too well, that nothing _untoward_ is going on in this house and how utterly unfair of me it was to doubt Fräulein Maria's character."

"She was not being anything but nice to me, Captain, honestly," Maria chimed quickly in before she was again, the cause between further distress – and before they returned to the subject of earlier that morning. "We only complained about the weather!"

But they acted as if they had not even heard her.

"You see? If you must know…" Gromi began.

"Indeed I must!" the Captain exclaimed, still suspicious.

"We started with one of the universally harmless subjects, as your governess rightfully pointed out. _The weather._" She glanced at Maria briefly, before continuing. "One thing leads to another and I began telling Fräulein Maria about my meeting with the lovely Duchess of Windsor two years ago. Oh, the weather was ghastly that day! John and I were invited for tea at the…"

"_Now _that _is going to make him boiling mad_!" Maria's hands flew to her head, and, ignoring protocol completely she let herself fall in the nearest chair, with a little moan of distress.

That was _precisely_ the problem with Captain Georg von Trapp and his brilliant intimidation tactics. He often led people to reveal him more than they should if they only managed not to feel threatened by what they saw in those dark blue eyes. She knew that only too well, because she had fallen into that same trap so many times before. Now Frau Whitehead had walked straight into it.

The Captain was so busy with his inquisition of Frau Whitehead that she doubted that he noticed her reaction. No, not likely – he probably did, and for that very reason, he persisted. Not in a million years she would have guessed that there would be any consequences to their brief, casual conversation with Gromi about the American socialite who two years before had married Prince Edward, formerly King Edward VIII of Britain. Nonetheless, all things considered, Maria had to admit that it was a somewhat explosive topic. The romantic tale about the monarch who had abdicated his throne for the love of a woman who was not only a divorcée, but also, unforgivably, a _commoner_ should be enough to bother Captain von Trapp a little bit.

"The Duchess of Windsor? Formerly known as Mrs. Wallis Simpson?"

"The one and only!

"How… _fascinating_!" he exclaimed ironically.

"Yes. Curiously, even your governess has heard about her before. Don't you think it is amazing how those kinds of news have a way of reaching the most unexpected places? Benedictine Abbeys, for instance."

Maria looked from the Captain to Gromi, then back to the Captain.

It was like watching too masters at work. Both had cunning minds, Frau Whitehead was as good in manipulation as the Captain was in intimidation. None of them never said or did anything without a very good underlying purpose. She knew that about her employer, but this was so obviously true for his mother-in-law as well. It was more than obvious that the subject of the real story of a man who had married beneath his station for love had been deliberately chosen by Frau Whitehead to provoke a reaction, first from Maria, and now from the Captain.

"Well, as I was saying to your governess, although I fail to see any romance in it, at least the story had its happy ending," Frau Whitehead said.

"Then might I ask why did you choose to bring up this particular subject in this particular moment?"

"My intent was a good one, Georg: to offer some kind advice to this young lady here."

"She was _not_ asking for your advice."

"Well, I gave it to her, anyway." Gromi turned to Maria, who straightened herself and got up from her chair instantly. "_You_ should know, my darling, unlike fairy tales, those are not the kind of stories that end happily in real life. I would hate to see such a lovely girl like you end up like that other one, the poor Elvira Madigan, for instance (1)."

"Erhm… who?" Maria asked.

The Captain had come to stand next to her, and she noticed that he was holding his breath. He looked like he was about to strangle the elderly lady, for some yet unknown reason. Whatever happened to Frau Madigan, it had to be worse than what the Duchess of Windsor had done in the eyes of society.

"I'm afraid I have never heard of her," Maria said. Next to her, he exhaled, relieved.

"Oh, she was quite a stunning woman. Unlike you, she was not fresh out of a convent – she was a trapeze artist from a family of well known circus performers."

_A trapeze artist! _Maria frowned. What might she have in common with a _circus performer_? She surely enjoyed climbing trees, sliding down banisters and making rope ladders but that was more or less where she drew the line as far as her own safety was concerned.

"But of course you cannot know anything about that poor darling girl. You were not even born when it happened. Her tragic story has some resemblance to that ghastly Mayerling incident (2). You most certainly heard of that one, Fräulein, _everyone_ in Austria has."

Of course Maria knew about the sad tragedy that had happened in Mayerling, even though she would hardly call herself _everyone in Austria_. _Everyone_ in Austria knew who Captain von Trapp was and what he had done for the country, and yet, until she met him in person, she had no idea whatsoever.

Frau Whitehead continued to talk incessantly.

"I was so young myself when Frau Madigan died, but I still remember most of the gruesome details… It was 1889 when it happened – quite curiously, the same year of the Mayerling incident took place. I must have been about Louisa's age. Such a scandal! Naturally father and mother forbade me to read anything about it, let alone discuss her heinous liaison with… what was his name? Spark? Speake?"

"Sparre," the Captain gritted.

"That's right! Lieutenant Count Bengt Edvard Sixten Sparre, I remember it well now. A very dashing Swedish Cavalry officer. You would outrank him in the military, Georg, but not in title. He was a _Count_."

"I know that," Georg grumbled. He was about to say something else, but he suddenly broke into a smile when he saw his three eldest daughters marching into the drawing room. Gromi, who had her back to the door, did not stop blabbering about the trapeze artist and the Swedish Count.

There was a mischievous glint in Gromi´s eyes, and Maria wondered if under any different circumstances, she would end up liking the woman after all. But most definitely, not at the moment, and not like this while she was doing her best to drive the Captain over the edge, because her next words were armed to provoke him again.

"Naturally you do. You also know that while the Swedish Calvary is still standing in its full glory, the Austrian Navy has sunk with…"

Before Gromi could continue, all three girls, who were still silent suddenly overcome with an incontrollable bout of coughing.

"Good Lord!" Frau Whitehead exclaimed, one hand to her chest, after nearly jumping one or two feet in the air. "Girls, you should never ever enter a room in this manner. It is most unladylike!"

Maria rushed to their side. "Girls, what is wrong?"

"Oh, they are just fine, Fräulein," said Frau Whitehead. "It is genetic, I'm afraid."

"Erhm… genetic?" Maria asked, uncertainly.

"My daughter suffered from the same condition whenever I mentioned the sad fate of the Imperial Navy. Isn't that true, Georg?"

The Captain, who was now pouring himself another badly needed dose of brandy, only grumbled in response. He had his back to Maria and the girls, but he was visibly strained. All she wanted to do was to walk to him, to place her hands on his tense shoulders, as he had done to her just a couple of hours ago. If it were not for the girl's presence in the room, she might not have been able to help herself, and she would do just that. She also sensed that the girl's presence in the room was also what was keeping him from lashing out at his mother in law.

It was Liesl who finally took a step towards him.

"Father?"

"Yes, Liesl?"

"Frau Schmidt has asked us to tell you that lunch is ready to be served."

"Yes, we hate to be the ones to tell you, father, but you are _late_," Louisa said slyly.

"We will be there in a moment, darlings," Gromi said. And then to Georg and Maria. "Perhaps during lunch I can tell Fräulein Maria all the details of my story."

"Yes," the Captain intervened crisply. "I am sure you do remember all the morbid details of it, Gromi. As I am sure you will spare us all of those during our meal."

"Oh, what was I thinking? That was good of you to remind me anyway. Your aversion to conversation during meal times is quite notorious, Georg, but I had completely forgotten about it."

But the Captain was not done with his speech yet.

"I should also tell you that Fräulein Maria is infinitely wiser and more discerning than Fräulein Madigan ever was. It will be an utter waste of your time to impress her with the telling of your favorite tragedies. _It won't work_. Am I not right, Fräulein?."

Maria stared at him, bewildered.

She never thought of herself as infinitely _anything_, except, maybe, infinitely naïve for allowing herself to fall in love with an unattainable man without even realizing what was happening. Had he said that she was infinitely more _beautiful_ or more _charming _than the woman whose fate they had been talking about, she would be at first thrilled, then skeptical, only to feel even worse afterwards, because it would only be another indication of what his true intentions towards her were.

Nevertheless, he hadn´t said she was beautiful, he said she was _wise_! Surely that was not necessarily a quality a man would look for in a mistress, even a man like Captain von Trapp. For the first time since she heard the news of his engagement to Baroness Schraeder, she allowed herself to feel just the slightest, the weakest, the faintest glimmer of… _hope_.

If she closed her eyes only for a moment – which she did – she could almost see the scenes as if in a motion picture. She saw herself leaving the Abbey again, this time for good, to return to the Trapp villa, where she innocently hoped to find Captain von Trapp waiting for her. But then the man she now knew with absolute certainty that she loved and who she dared to dream might love her in return was _engaged to be married another woman. _It had been as simple as that.

She knew enough to know how _biding_ an engagement was, especially in the upper classes. It was not something that could be easily broken, not without any consequence for the parts involved. That could mean dishonor, particularly if almost immediately afterwards people discovered the Captain was involved with another woman. No, he would not do that to his family, to his children. Not for the sake of a governess. His family had had its share of tragedies ever since the Great War ended, and Austria most certainly did not need another Mayerling – she thought dramatically. He would not do that because he did not love her back at all, he simply _lusted_ after her. Gromi had been right when she had warned that she had believed the fairy tale could come true and she should not have.

But now, in this very moment… Now she just did not know anymore.

"_What is this power he has of turning my world upside down every five minutes with just one look, just a couple of casual words?_" she thought dreamingly. "_Could it be just me, then? Am I reading too much into this again?_"

"Fräulein?" she heard his voice from far away, her eyes still closed. "Maria," he repeated, a little louder this time. Her eyes shot open, only to meet his and to see there in its midnight blue depths, in spite of his smile, an anguish that all but matched her own. She swallowed a huge lump in her throat.

"Are you well?" he asked. There as an intimate tone in his voice that she did not recall hearing before, at least not with such intensity. It was not the tone of an employer worried about the well being of those who worked for him. It was not the regard of a sea captain about the safety of his crew. It was not even the bearing of a man who, as he had said to her innumerous times before, had given the Reverend Mother the solemn promise that no harm would come to her in his house. It was something else entirely.

"Yes, yes. I'm perfectly fine," she found her voice. "I'm sorry, I was just distracted for a moment," she said, as quickly as she possibly could.

_It would have been so easy to start dreaming again… _

With him like that, complimenting her, _smiling _at her, defending her. It seemed that now, whenever she caught him looking at her, instead of the usual angry frown, he was always smiling. He certainly was making it impossible for her to be realistic about the whole situation. But this time her mind was firmly set on not allowing herself to be carried away by it, not again. She would thread carefully, very carefully, guarding her frail heart as best as she could.

"It seems your _Maria_ is just not used to receiving too many compliments at once! Yes, you were absent for a few seconds, my dear, and quite adorably so, might I add," Frau Whitehead observed.

"Maybe I should see if the rest of the children are ready now. Right?" Maria said, looking at the girls, who nodded back, smiling.

"They are already waiting by the table," informed Louisa.

"Her face flushed again," commented Brigitta, distractedly. "It happens _all the time_ now."

"No, it doesn't," Maria corrected her hastily. "Not _all_ the time, Brigitta."

"Does it?" her grandmother asked slyly.

"Oh… erhm… ahm…," Maria interrupted, before the children could unintentionally make her predicament worse again. All eyes turned to her – _his,_ most specially. "You shouldn't make too much of it. You see, I have a very light skin tone, and I have this little… problem. I - I_ blush_."

"Really?" From the opposite end of the table, Captain von Trapp raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Most of the time," she confirmed, making a supreme effort to sound casual, matter-of-factly about it. "You should know that by now, Captain," she said, trying to sound just a bit accusing. She frowned at the man who was the source of all her misery, and who apparently was, at the moment, enjoying watching her squirm. "It does not mean anything. Just a… an abnormal amount of blood rushing to my face in the _most_ inconvenient times," she tried to laugh. "I am sure there is a good scientific explanation about it somewhere."

"Not that I ever heard of. How… interesting!" the Captain exclaimed, with exquisite irony. Then he _smiled_ at her – that same wicked little half smile that always had the power to make her heartbeat increase tenfold.

"Funny, I don't remember you blushing _all the time_ when you first arrived, Fräulein," Louisa provoked.

Brigitta agreed. "Yes. In fact I don't remember you _ever_ blushing until father returned from Vienna!"

"Maybe you are allergic to something we have in the house," suggested Liesl. "Franz sneezes like a madman whenever a cat is nearby."

"Yes!" Brigitta´s eyes lit up, as if she had made one of her little scientific discoveries. "Maybe Fräulein Maria is allergic to _father_. That only happens when he is near, have you noticed it?"

Maria looked heavenwards, praying for guidance. No, she did not think that she would call the effect the Captain had upon her an allergy. The eleven year old _did_ notice everything. She just had no idea how the little one's powers of observation could be so unsettling.

"That would be enough, children," said the Captain in a gentle, but severe tone.

"Yes, dears. You are embarrassing your poor governess!" Gromi exclaimed before Maria could find any coherent words to say. "You see? It was only good of me to warn her about certain dangers, don't you think, Georg?" she said, as Maria was following them out of the room. "You don't want her to have the same fate as the one of that poor misguided soul, do you?"

"Erhm – what dangers and to which poor misguided soul you are referring to, Gromi?" the Captain asked.

"Frau Madigan, of course," Gromi exclaimed, impatiently. "Frankly, Georg, I understand why your governess with her curious allergy symptoms has her head in the clouds today, but _you_!"

His answer was one of his sarcastic grins, as he ignored her remark about him being distracted. "I am quite sure there is no danger of anything like that happening in this house. To begin with, I don't think Fräulein Maria has ever considered the idea of becoming a trapeze artist," he finished with a chuckle. He stopped walking and turned around to face her, just as they were about to reach the door to the dinning room. "Have you, Fräulein?"

"Certainly not, Captain!" She then added lightly, trying to match his humor. "I think I would never be able to go beyond sliding down banisters or climbing rope ladders."

This proved to be enough to end the conversation, and Maria was left with the mystery about whom that _poor misguided soul_ was, although it was not very hard to guess what had happened to her.

"Let us eat, shall we?" the Captain announced, as they entered the dinning room.

A/N: (1) "_She was born __**Hedvig Antoinette Isabella Eleonore Jensen**__ in __Flensburg__ in northern __Germany__. Her mother was a Norwegian circus performer and her father a Danish stable master. Her mother later lived with the American circus manager John Madigan. (…) While performing in __Sweden__ with her stepfather's circus, she met a Swedish cavalry officer, Lieutenant Count Bengt Edvard Sixten Sparre (born __September 27__, __1854__). Sparre and Madigan fell in love, but their love was impossible, partly due to the fact that Sparre was married and the father of two children. After exchanging love letters for a year, they ran away together to Denmark in June 1889, where they spent about a month. When they ran out of money, they packed a picnic basket, went out to the Nørreskov ("North forest") on the island __Tåsinge__, Denmark, and had a last meal, after which Sparre shot Madigan and himself with his service revolver. Madigan was 21 years old and Sparre 35 years old. It was 20 July, 1889._" Source – Wikipedia. In the 1960´s, there was a Swedish movie about the drama. The theme song was the Andante of Mozart´s Piano Concerto n.o 21, which became known, after that, as the Elvira Madigan theme.

(2) "_The __**Mayerling Incident**__ refers to the series of events leading to the apparent murder-suicide of __Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria__ and his lover __Baroness Mary Vetsera__. Prince Rudolf was the only son of Emperor __Franz Josef I of Austria__, and therefore heir to his father as Emperor of __Austria__, King of __Hungary__, and King of __Bohemia__. Rudolf's mistress Mary was the daughter of __Baron Albin Vetsera__, a diplomat at the Austrian court. The couple's bodies were discovered at __Mayerling__, Rudolf's hunting lodge, in __Lower Austria__ on __January 30__, __1889__."_ Source – Wikipedia.


	9. Chapter 9

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****8**

**OOO**

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

"_**Happy the man who has been able to learn the causes of things." [Lat., Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas…] **_

_**Virgil, Georgics (II, 490).**_

**OOO**

"_**I have told you, reader, that I had learnt to love Mr. Rochester: I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me - because I might pass hours in his presence, and he would never once turn his eyes in my direction - because I saw all his attentions appropriated by a great lady, who scorned to touch me with the hem of her robes as she passed; who, if ever her dark and imperious eye fell on me by chance, would withdraw it instantly as from an object too mean to merit observation. I could not unlove him, because I felt sure he would soon marry this very lady - because I read daily in her a proud security in his intentions respecting her - because I witnessed hourly in him a style of courtship which, if careless and choosing rather to be sought than to seek, was yet, in its very carelessness, captivating, and in its very pride, irresistible." **_

_**Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre**_

**OOO**

White the children played, Maria watched, sitting in the marble steps that began in the terrace and ended in a path that led to the lake. She placed her elbows on her knees, rested her head against her hands and closed her eyes. Feeling a light headache coming, she massaged her temples.

No, she did not wish to think about it, but she _had to._

"See you at dinner, Fräulein," had been Gromi´s words to her, as she prepared to leave the table after lunch.

_Dinner…_

There were a million of problems for her to consider, all of them having to do with the formal meal Frau Whitehead and the Captain were planning for that same evening. The Captain had been visibly reluctant about it at first, but when he realized that all his dearest friends would be attending, he changed his demeanor completely. Frau Whitehead took care of organizing everything else, just as Baroness Schraeder had done before her _grand and glorious_ party.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Maria asked politely before leaving.

"Oh no, dear. You may just go and be with the children, as usual. As for tonight… well, you just have to wear a nice dress make yourself pretty, of course."

Having heard that, Maria ran from the dinning room.

_A nice dress…_

How she wished, only for a second, that she had spent more time with Frau Poppmeier for no other reason than to _just make herself more clothes!_

_Because she would have to wear the accursed blue dress again__… That lovely little blue _thing,_ as the Baroness had called it…_

There was no other alternative. She was wearing her only other _good_ frock, the Austrian country dress she had worn during the party. She sighed deeply. It seemed that every stitch of clothing she had came with a memory of a moment she had spent with him, and that alone was disturbing enough. Paradoxically, she suddenly wished that instead of leaving her clothes behind, as she had done when she ran, she had taken them all with her to Nonnberg, so that they would belong to the poor now. She would have the perfect excuse not to attend dinner. Meanwhile, some poor but happy girl would be wearing her dress in a country dance where she would meet her future husband and they would dance the Ländler...

That blue dress – it was the most beautiful thing she had made for herself, and, as simple as it was, she was so proud of what she had accomplished. Yet, ever since the Baroness confronted her at the night of the party, she could hardly bear the sight of it. She had no other choice, she had to wear it. There was no time to make another one, even if she had the material. The Schneiders would certainly not mind at all what she chose to wear for dinner. The Eberfelds – she hardly knew anything about them at all, except that the Baroness was fond of her, so she could be certain. As for the Captain… he could not possibly look at her more intensely than he already was at all times, could he?

"Mmmm," Maria thought for a moment. Maybe there was something positive about her reduced wardrobe. He knew the blue dress, he had seen it before. So it would not be anything new to him, there would be no impact. On the other hand, if she showed up with some nice new frock, things could go worse, couldn't they? If she still had the atrocious gray one she wore when she first left the abbey, she would be tempted to wear that one! Now that would cause some reaction in him, she thought amusedly.

However, what to wear or not to wear the dress were the _least_ of all her problems.

The prospect of sitting at the table with those people without the children around was unsettling. She had a million reasons to want to run away again, and she knew that the Captain was in fact half expecting that she would try to do just that. His eyes had followed her closely as she left the dinner table, and she was sure that he was not going to let her out of her sight until tonight.

"_No,_" she thought. "_I will show them all once and for all that I am not a coward!_" Most importantly, she would not use the children as a shield, just as she had tried to use the Abbey as a refuge.

As brave as she pretended to be, she could not stop thinking that she would be under Frau Whitehead's insistent scrutiny. The imposing matron had somehow softened her attitude towards her, but she still wasted no opportunity to throw one her barbs. There were also the other members of the household staff to be considered…

Dear Lord, what would Franz and the other servants think about it? The governess having dinner with the family _without_ the children? What would they say?

They were all behaving very strangely towards her. Even Frau Schmidt, usually so warm and friendly, was hardly able to meet her eyes nowadays, and Maria could swear that the housekeeper was avoiding her. Of course the fact that calling her by the first name had become almost second nature to the Captain, at least when he was too distracted to notice, did not help to improve things in her favor. She had seen enough raised eyebrows in such a short period of time to tell her that…

No, certainly it was not the guests or the servants she worried about during dinnertime. It was _him_. She knew he would protect her against everyone else, but how far would he be willing to go? Maria did not think he would indispose himself against his friends, or even against his mother-in-law simply because of her. And _who_ on earth would protect her against him and against herself?

That was the worst of all – she felt herself catching fire every time he was near her. Even the children had already noticed it, although she prayed that they had no idea _why_. Allergies, indeed! She felt on fire whenever she merely _thought_ about him, as she was doing now. All of a sudden, simply not being able to breathe was the smallest of her problems… Oh God, she was such a mess! She could not seem to be able to form a coherent thought, at least not a single thought that led her back to him.

The best thing to do was to consider the facts only, and as objectively as she could. As she was reminded without any subtlety or delicacy by Frances Whitehead, that she was a governess, a commoner, with not a drop of blue blood in her ancestry. She had no breeding, her education could hardly be considered adequate by the von Trapp´s standards. People like Captain Georg _Ritter _von Trapp just did not marry people like _her_; they did not fall in love people like her. People like him seduced ingénues like her, then left them as soon as they were not interested in them anymore.

There were times when she had told herself that Georg von Trapp was an honorable man, that he would not do such a thing to any woman, least of all to her. Then she thought that perhaps in the world he lived in such things happened frequently enough to be considered normal, so maybe in his mind, there would be nothing immoral about that. No, she should not think about him that way. It hurt too much. She would not, ever again, if she could help it. If he were any other man and if she were as sure about his intentions as she was now, he would end up like the boy who tried to kiss her when she was fourteen. However, she could not yell at him, she could not hit him and least of all run away from him.

_She loved him._

Because she loved Captain von Trapp, she wondered if she would be strong enough to resist him. She wondered if in the end, it would not be worthwhile to live a few stolen moments with him than the rest of her life without knowing how it would be like to be in his arms. At least she would have some memories to hold on to…

Oh, it was so very, very tempting – but would it be wise? Would she survive alone after he had conveniently discarded her? The thought of finding another man after that was enough to make her stomach turn. The very idea of being with another man in any way other than him was revolting, inconceivable. She could not fathom leaving the convent for any other man in the world but for him. It was unimaginable, unthinkable.

Close a door, open a window – no matter what happens, you will still have a way out, you only needed to find it. Before any of this happened to her that was what she innocently used to believe: that everything and anything that could be done could also be undone in some way or another. But now she had lost that certainty that had carried her throughout her whole life. Some things just could not be fixed. If she decided to go to him and accept whatever he had to offer her, whatever it was, there would be no going back. The gates of Nonnberg would be forever closed to her. The window had indeed been opened, but it was high, and she had fallen from it.

No, she could not do it, no matter how much she craved a few stolen moments with the man she loved. She had to think about what would happen to her when it was over. The doors and windows that would be opened would only be the ones she would find too loathsome to cross.

Maria watched the children play in the distance, wistfully, trying to force her thoughts in her own future.

"_What am I going to do now? I can't go back to the Abbey, I can't be a nun, and I can't stay here, in this house. No, I can't stay in his town, in this country. The Reverend Mother must help me, at least to find a place for me, a job. As far away as possible, somewhere where they never heard of Captain von Trapp, never heard of Salzburg… America, maybe, Africa. China. Anywhere in Europe would be too close. Are there only Buddhist monasteries or are there convents in Tibet, I wonder? Could I become a Buddhist Monk? Is there a need for European governesses in Siberia? Are there mountains in Siberia? I refuse to go anywhere without mountains."_

These thoughts encouraged her. Maybe she would look for other doors and windows after all. A tiny smile came to her lips, and the Captain arrived just in time to see it.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Captain von Trapp had been watching her for a while. He watched all the subtle changes in her expression, enough to know that he was witnessing a very private moment, even though Maria was outside, watching the children, in broad daylight. With relief, he saw the tension in her face ease a little bit, and he knew it had to do with whatever she was thinking, and not with the children, whom she watched distractedly, sitting in the white marble steps. He was almost sorry to disturb that rare moment of peace, but when he saw her smile, he could not help himself.

"You look just like a female version of _Le Penseur _of Rodin. What were you smiling about?" he asked, a few steps behind her.

Maria startled a little, but she remained seated, and did not turn around to face him. His chest tightened when she saw her stiffen again, as soon as she heard his voice. When she turned her head slightly, he saw that that she was no longer smiling.

"_Enough is enough,"_ he thought. "_I will put a stop to this before the day is over."_

"If I found you like these only two weeks ago, I would wager you were planning another mutiny. You were smiling in a most intriguing manner," he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, because a weak smile immediately returned to her face.

In a bold move, he sat next to her on the steps. Close, much too close – he knew it, and he did not care at all. The fact that she did not make any attempt to move away from him reassured him. In the midst of her emotional ordeal, she still seemed to find his physical proximity comforting, rather than menacing. That alone spoke volumes about the feelings he was now absolutely certain she had for him.

"I'm not planning a mutiny any time soon, Captain. At least - ehrm – at least not until the next thunderstorm," she teased him back.

He laughed, in amusement and in relief. He could almost cry out with joy. She was still his Maria. The events of the past few weeks had not killed her spirit after all.

"Now you are _really_ going to have to tell me what you were thinking," he said lightly. It was almost like the old days, before any of them fancied to be in love, when they could sit and talk for as long time.

"Oh, I was, I was…" she searched for the right words to say. "I was thinking about something the Reverend Mother said to me just before I left the Abbey to come here." She gave a little shrug. "Doors and windows."

"Hmm?"

"It's just a silly metaphor. It used to work beautifully in the Abbey, but it has proved to be useless out of it," she replied, still not looking at him directly.

"Mmmm," he thought for a moment. "I don't think that is true at all. The Reverend Mother, in all her wisdom, would not say anything to you that would be useless outside the walls of Nonnberg. Not to _you_, and not when she was sending out into the world."

"Look over there," Kurt yelled, attracting their attention instantly.

"Forget it, Kurt, that one is _mine,_" Louisa warned her older brother menacingly.

"Only if you beat me to it!"

"_I _invented this game," Louisa shouted back. "I have _rights_."

"It may be your game, but the rules are _ours_," Friedrich sneered.

"Children wait," she called after them, but it was useless. Soon they were gone from their sight, having disappeared in the midst of the trees. Only the sound of their laughter was heard. There had been a slight touch of panic in her voice when she called after the children – even if the children were playing a bit far away, he knew they were around and she felt reasonably secure. Now she was completely alone with him. Her safety net was gone.

"What on earth was that? I haven't seen them so secretive since… since the day before you came back, as a matter of fact," he said lightly, trying to make her relax again. "They tried to see you in the Abbey, did you know that?"

"Yes. Sister Margaretta told me. Had I known about it I would talk to them, but when I found out, they… they had already left." Her voice caught and hands were fidgeting nervously.

"I am sorry, I had no intention of upsetting you by bringing up bad memories."

"You did not upset me. And the memories were not so terrible," she said, clearly lying this time. "Were they… were they in trouble because they tried to see me? You didn't punish them, did you?"

"I tried to, but them you spoiled everything by coming back," he taunted.

"Really, Captain!" It was the angry, censorial tone she usually applied to him in the old days, and he chuckled.

"They came up with the most absurd story about going to the woods to pick blue strawberries as an excuse."

"_Blueberries,_ you mean."

"No, you heard it right. _Blue strawberries_!" The baffled look in her face made her utterly adorable to him, and he could hardly resist the temptation of kissing her. "It is a new variety that grows only in the _Salzkammergut_. Friedrich apparently is the one who knows everything about it."

"Mmmm," she muttered, and her eyes flew back to the safety of the calm lake waters again. Her face was flushed, as it usually was now whenever he was around – but that was better than the paleness of the day before her return.

"Why aren´t you playing with the children?"

"I am!" She smiled, but she still kept her eyes firmly on the lake. "They will come to me and ask me very odd questions from time to time. It's all part of a game the boys invented. The rules are very complicated, if you ask me. They are arguing about them all the time."

"Who is the cunning mind who devised such game?"

"Kurt, of course. He is your little military genius. Friedrich is the one keeping all others from strangling each other," she smiled. "He is the peacemaker."

"He is just like his mother in that respect. It was Agathe who was always keeping me from throttling Gromi and from punching my father-in-law in the face when he started digressing for hours about the unquestionable superiority of the British Navy," he let out a deep chuckle.

He could not help but noticing the complete absence of hurt that came with the memory. That was all there was to it now, a pleasant memory left in the past, something you could think about and smile. Although he still could not bring himself to think about the days before and after Agathe´s death, all the other memories of her now seemed to have that same peaceful quality to it. The angst he felt no longer had anything to do with his first wife, but with the young woman next to him. But that was a feeling that he was sure it would not last for long. He vowed it would not.

"_By this time tomorrow, Maria, you will be my bride,_" he promised her silently.

Maria was oblivious of the direction that his thoughts were taken. Hers, apparently, were headed in an entirely different path.

"They must get used to play without me, if I am going to leave soon, mustn't they?" she said forlornly.

"Have you – uh - told them that you are planning to leave again?"

"No, I didn't have the heart to," she whispered. "It's much too…" she swallowed, "… difficult. They are so happy now, such news will break their hearts again. I'm afraid that when the time comes you will have to help me with that."

"I see. However, I don't think you will need my help to tell the children whatever you decide to do. You did just fine putting their fearful grandmother in her rightful place." He took a deep breath before asking the next question. "I am sorry she was so rude to you."

"She wasn't _rude_, Captain, just…"

"Disrespectful," he chose another equally unflattering word.

Maria shook her head. "She just doesn't like me very much, that is all. I can live with it. It is not the first time I make such a bad first impression. _You_, for instance…"

"She was inexcusably discourteous and her insinuations were deplorable," he interrupted, angrily. "Frankly, I expected more from the lady she claims herself to be. In fact, I have never seen her act like that with anyone else. Not even with me when she thought I was not adequate to marry one of her daughters."

She seemed surprised, and asked indignantly. "Why would she think you were not good enough for her daughter?"

"I just been given the command of my first submarine."

"I gather she was not impressed."

"Hardly. Submarine commanders were hardly considered the elite of the Imperial Navy. Quite the contrary, we were considered a bunch of wild rascals."

"Pirates?" she smiled.

"Close enough," he chuckled.

"I had no idea!"

"There was also the very important detail that I had not been knighted at the time. Consequently I did not have a title. There was that, but most importantly there was also the fact that she also considered me to be the embodiment of every possible negative stereotype that was ever applied to a seafaring man."

"Oh dear. A woman in every port…" she chanted.

"I'll just say that, in her own words, she considered me to be an _unreformable_ rake."

"Well, you proved her wrong, didn't you? And quite spectacularly, I should add. You made her daughter very happy, you have her seven grandchildren and you became one of your country´s biggest naval heroes! What more could she possibly want from you?"

"I suppose I did make her swallow her own words, didn't I?"

"She is just trying to protect her grandchildren now, you can´t possibly blame her for that."

"My children have me to protect them if they ever need any kind of protection at all," he stated firmly.

She flinched at his sudden angry tone. "Nonetheless, Frau Whitehead opened my eyes for a few things. It's a difficult world, the one you live in, Captain, so full of rules and protocol."

"Yes, I suppose it is," he shrugged.

She continued. "I understand now that whatever you choose to do with your life will reflect upon the future of your children, and maybe even _their_ children."

"Yes, but things are not as black and white as you believe. It took me a while to learn that particular lesson, and I don't think Frau Whitehead ever has."

"Why are they saying such awful things about us?" She blurted out the question, and he guessed it must have been one of those times when she said something before thinking about it. As soon as she realized what she had said, she bit her lower lip and her gazed dropped to her hands.

His heart sunk.

_She knew_.

He chastised himself for bring an utter fool. Of course she had to know. How could she not?

"I'm so sorry," she said, as quickly as she could muster. He was about to reassure her that she had nothing to be sorry about when, all of a sudden, she straightened, her back became stiff as a rod. Her face was no longer flushed, it was as white as a sheet. Her eyes widened.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The _Baroness_!" she whispered. Then she turned to him. "Is that why she left? Was she upset about… what everybody is saying?"

"Yes and no," he answered truthfully and she let out a moan of distress. "None of this awful mess was your fault. If there is anyone who deserves the blame, then it is me."

"Then I need to talk to her, I need to explain," she said fervently. "She will be your wife, she cannot begin by believing such awful things about you."

"Maria, I am not..."

Somehow she guessed what he was trying to say – the he had broken the engagement. Her expression was one of utter shock and disbelief.

"No, no, no! Don't even say it, don't even _think_ of doing such a thing!" She shook her head, from side to side. "_Are you mad?_" He wondered if she realized that she was practically yelling at him now. "No, you did not do this insane thing, you will not do it. The children need her. _You _need her! Oh no, you must go to Vienna after her. Today. You _must_."

"Hold on and listen to me for just a moment," he tried to interrupt her, but she never even heard him.

"This changes _everything_. You realize, of course that I must leave. I cannot stay here like this. I am… I am_ ruining your life,_" she added, dramatically. "What is even worse, I'm ruining the _children's _lives, and I cannot allow that to happen. That was not why I was sent here in the first place. It was not God's errand."

"_Yes, it was, but not for the reasons you think. You belong here, Maria. In this house, in this family. You belong with me!_" He wanted to yell back at her. He realized, however, that if he did that, he would do nothing but distress her further, and he needed her as calm as possible for the moment – at least until tonight, when he would finally be able to find a way to be alone with her.

"That is something we will discuss later tonight," he said instead. "And _no one_ is going _anywhere_ until we do." Maria looked at him with her old defiance. She opened her mind to speak, but he silenced her immediately. "Ah-ha, I won't even argue about it, Fräulein. Take it as an order if you want to."

His old militaristic tone worked, and she responded to it.

"That is fair enough, I suppose," she replied, acquiescent. "I think that after running away like that, the least I could do would be to listen to you before I left _again_, even though I do have a very good reason to leave this time. Just promise me you'll make things right with the Baroness."

"I promise I will make things right," he said truthfully. He had not added "_with the Baroness,_" and he was glad she had not noticed the omission. It was, after all, one promise he was planning to keep. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Just answer me truthfully. After all that happened, are you still considering taking your final vows?" he asked. "I thought you said the ceremony was going to happen by the end of September. That is only two weeks away. What are you going to do?"

"Two weeks…" She did not know what to answer, and he cursed inwardly for bringing her to the verge of tears again. "Honestly I… I do not know what to do yet," she answered weakly. "I mean, I know what I _must_ do, but I don´t know if_…_"

"Yes?"

She was looking at him now. "If you should marry the Baroness, then I should take my vows. Isn't what everyone expects us to do? It is the only way to fix everything, to make things right again."

"O-ho, I beg to differ!

"I – I can't see the children anymore from here," she said, breathlessly, tearing her gaze away. "I should go to them before they get into trouble. They must be playing near the lake …" She tried to get up, but realized that he was sitting on the folds of her skirt.

"Oh, forgive me," he said, but made no motion to get up and free her.

"Captain," her tone was almost pleading. "The children…"

"The children will be perfectly fine. Liesl and Friedrich will look after then as they always do. You and I… as I said just now, we need to talk," he said gravely. "Please, stay with me a little longer."

"Captain, I…"

"Stop calling me _Captain_ in every other sentence! You don't have to do that anymore," he snapped, and Maria tensed visibly. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to sound so… so _biting_. I am angry at myself, not you."

"Why?"

"I… the truth is that let you get away before, but today you will listen, not even if I have to - to chain you to the gazebo, as Gromi so theatrically suggested." He chuckled, but Maria did not seem at all amused. She resented his caustic tone of moments earlier, and he could not blame her. "There is something I know, and I think you know it too. At the same time, there is something that _you_ don't know - yet, but you will. Very, very soon… In fact no one knows, except…" He had to bite his lips in order to prevent himself from cursing. Never before it was so hard for him to put his thoughts into words. Being clear and precise whenever he spoke was almost second nature to him.

"You are not making much sense," she blurted out.

"What about your mysterious metaphor about… what was it? Aah, doors and windows? I am not talking in riddles, I am just trying to find the appropriate words and I am suddenly dismal at it. The point is that I think you and I should…"

Franz's voice coming from somewhere behind them interrupted him.

"Herr Dr. Thürmann, Captain. Calling from Vienna."

"Please tell him I will call him back in five minutes," he barked, sounding just like the old captain again.

"But Captain…"

"Five minutes, Franz!"

"Very well, sir."

"Captain, I really really must…" Maria started, after the butler disappeared from their sight.

"Don't!"

He silenced her, by placing hands over her much smaller ones. He held them firmly, until they stopped fidgeting. Next to him, Maria held her breath, as he could feel her body's tension through her hands, just like he had felt that morning, when he had touched her shoulders.

"Will you look at me, please?" he asked. "I will not hurt you, I swear."

Maria could only look at his hands. He did the same, and only then noticed that he still wore Agathe's ring.

"_So _that_ is what she is staring at!_" he realized.

How could he have been so stupidly careless? Days before, when Elsa and him had decided to become engaged, he had made a mental note to remove the ring, but for some reason he could not bring himself to do it. He sighed, resigned. There was little or nothing he could say or do that would calm her again now, but the least he could do was try. He leaned closer to her and, almost in a whisper, he said.

"It will all be all right. Trust me. Just give me… no, give yourself just a few more hours. We'll talk after dinner, but only because what I have to say to you cannot be said in five minutes. We need peace and quiet. Just please, do not run from me ever again, I beg of you."

"How on earth did you know I ran away from _you_?" she asked under her breath, still staring at his hands holding hers.

He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. Then he left, without looking back. Franz was already waiting for him by the door, to take him to the blasted telephone call.


	10. Chapter 10

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****9**

**OOO**

_**A/N: Closer and closer, ALMOST, but not quite there... yet. They still have to go through that dinner party, but first there is still time for another Georg/Maria moment. In this chapter there are references to another story of mine, "Treasures", and a line I "stole" from Maria von Trapp´s book, "Maria" (needless to say I don´t own that either). **_

_**Thank you for the amazing reviews, especially to AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed for pointing out some mistakes - they will all be fixed as soon as I have the time. My thanks also to the inspiring muses of the fan fiction forum - you know who you are:-)**_

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

"_**The cause is hidden, but the result is known." **__**[Lat., Causa latet: vis est notissima. **_

_**Ovid, Metamorphoses (IV, 287).**_

**OOO**

_**""YOU," I said, "a favorite with Mr. Rochester? YOU gifted with the power of pleasing him? YOU of importance to him in any way? Go! your folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional tokens of preference - equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of family and a man of the world to a dependent and a novice. How dared you? Poor stupid dupe! - Could not even self-interest make you wiser? You repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene of last night? - Cover your face and be ashamed! He said something in praise of your eyes, did he? Blind puppy! Open their bleared lids and look on your own accursed senselessness! It does good to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and, if discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatus-like, into miry wilds whence there is no extrication." **_

_**Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre**_

**OOO**

Her mind firmly made up, as soon as the children were settled to have their early dinner, Maria summoned up all that was left of her courage and went to look for Captain von Trapp in his private study. Although the last thing she wanted was to be alone with him _ever again_, she still had to make one final attempt to reason with him, to make him understand _why_ she could not attend dinner that evening. He had to excuse her from what to her would be an ordeal; it would be much too cruel of him if he did not.

She did not find it strange at first that the door was open. He was there, where she knew she would find him, in his mahogany desk. Like her, he was already dressed for dinner, in one of his impeccable dark navy suits. In spite of the seriousness of his face, as he attentively studied a letter in his hands, he looked much more approachable to her than he did that night of the party. There was no white tie, no white gloves, no spectacular military medals of honor in sight, just… _him_, as she was used to seeing every night at dinner.

"_You see? There is nothing to be afraid of. He hardly looks any differently than the Captain you are used to seeing every night,_" she told herself.

Wistfully, Maria watched him for a moment, and the whole room around him disappeared. She saw nothing else, and for a moment she allowed herself the simple pleasure of just… drinking the sight of him. Sadly, she was no longer sure if she would have that opportunity again, to just _look_ at the man she loved, as if to make sure that his image would never be erased from her brain. Oh, how she wished she could walk to him, only to place a soothing kiss on the top of his head, then use her hands to ease the visible tension around his neck and shoulders, but God knows she could not touch him, no matter how innocently, how informally. The fact still remained - he was Captain von Trapp, she was his governess. But that – the sight of him – no one would be able to take away from her.

Step by step, she approached his desk, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

"Captain?" she spoke.

A slight tension around his shoulders was the only indication that perhaps she had startled him. He barely raised his eyes form the piece of paper which held his attention.

"Yes?"

His tone was brisk, very much like his old self. Considering what had just happened in the stairs, it did not made sense. Why all of a sudden he appeared almost cold and distant, no longer the passionate man who had held her hands only a couple of hours before? Nevertheless, her confidence was renewed and she was oddly relieved, because she knew only to well how to deal with that brooding sea captain.

"I am sorry, I know I should have knocked," she stuttered, loosing just a little bit of her courage, because now he was looking steadily at her, his eyes still unreadable. She knew what he was looking at: the blue dress, her one and only choice of wear for the evening; with the small anchor brooch pinned to her left breast. There was a subtle glint in his eyes when he noticed it. A mere flicker, but for Maria, now familiar of every nuance of his face, with every play of color in his eyes, it was evident. Her hands fidgeted nervously and she found herself grabbing fistfuls of her skirts, in a vain attempt to control that feeling.

"That is… completely irrelevant now. The door was open," he said curtly.

In spite of the distant tone – a startling contrast to the dark blue fire in his eyes -, he put the letter down, taking his time to fold it neatly and replace it inside its envelope. It wasn't until he completed the whole process that he gave her his full attention.

In one of his typical gestures of extreme politeness, he showed her the chair facing him on the imposing mahogany desk.

"Please."

"No, no, thank you. I rather stand, if you don't mind," she said, responding to his sudden, excessive formality. "I won't take very much of your time, the children are waiting for me upstairs."

His eyes narrowed, refusing to leave hers. He seemed oddly… _pleased _by her equally formal answer for some reason she could not yet grasp.

"As you wish - _Fräulein_," he nodded.

Meeting his gaze became too much to bear, and her eyes dropped to his hands. Agathe´s heavy gold band still gleamed in his finger.

"_Big mistake_," she realized it almost instantly. If anyone told her months ago that the mere sight of a man's hands could play such havoc to a woman's feelings she would not have believed it.

His hands… she had lost herself just watching them before. Oh, if her writing skills were any better, she would write n ode about those hands only. It had taken only a few casual touches for her to learn that his hands that could make her burn with the simplest of all touches, more than enough to make her wonder how they would feel in other parts of her body…

"_What is the matter with me?_" She had to bite her lips not to say the words aloud and quickly averted her gaze, looking heavenward. "_Oh dear, those poets who sing about the joys of being a woman must have been utter fools, all of them! This is not joy, this is torture!_"

"Fräulein?" he inquired, since she had been silent for a few seconds. "I am sorry to interrupt your musings, but - is there something you need?"

"Oh yes, yes. There is. I'm sorry, I..." Her hand lightly touched her short fringe, as she thought that he would be absolutely mortified if he only knew what she was thinking right now. To her utter consternation, his amused grin told her that perhaps he did!

"Yes?"

"Captain, may I…"

"No, you may not," he said simply, but with incredible speed.

"What?" Although his tone was far gentler than it had been when she entered the room and in spite of the fact that he was actually _smiling_ at her, she was completely taken aback by his refusal.

"Why do you always have to do that! You didn't even know what I was going to ask!" she protested.

"On the contrary, I am quite sure I did," he grinned.

She stopped herself from arguing her point as soon as she realized that his quick eyes had shifted from her person to the wall behind her. Turning around to follow the direction of his gaze, she saw Franz, who was doing a lousy job pretending to be busy rearranging a crooked painting. Only too late she realized that they were not alone in the room. There it was, the reason for his initial cold treatment of her. Frankly, she could not blame him for it.

"O-o-oohhh," Maria moaned, mortified.

"Franz would you excuse us, please?" he ordered immediately, looking over her shoulder. Getting up from his chair, he walked towards the door.

"Certainly, Captain," the butler answered, but still continued to fumble with the painting, making no motion to leave.

"_Now!_" the Captain barked, so suddenly that she jumped, while Franz's face turned a vivid red, as he murmured an excuse and scurried out of the room immediately.

Maria followed the butler with her eyes, nearly jumping again when the Captain practically slammed the door shut behind the man.

"I am nearly done with this man's impertinence," he grumbled, returning to his desk. "If not for my loyalty towards his father, I would have let him go already!"

She kept staring at the closed door, not daring to turn around to face her nemesis. Her cheeks were burning, and she would only betray herself shamelessly. This time, however, it was the thought about what Franz could be spreading to the other servants right now that distressed her. It was enough to make her headache return with full force, and one of her hands flew to her head.

"You should not have done that, you are only making things worse," she began, gravely, her eyes still fixed upon the closed door.

Finally, she turned to face him. He was not angry as she had expected him to be. On the contrary, he seemed unusually relaxed and confident, absolutely oblivious of the simple implications of a mere closed door.

Her anger flared.

How could he be so calm and composed, so sure of himself, when people were saying such awful things about them both? Less than one hour ago he was careless enough to let Franz see while he was holding her hands, and now… Now he had practically shoved the old man out of his study, slamming the door in his back, so that they could be alone.

No wonder every tongue from Salzburg to Vienna was flapping at their expense!

The Captain raised his patrician eyebrows questioningly. "Shouldn't have done what? _What did I do this time?_" He was smiling, and he sounded almost… _flirtatious _now that they were alone, but she was still too distressed to respond to his tone.

"You should not have yelled at him, or slam the door in his back. He… he saw _you_ holding my hands earlier. Now what is he going to think about us being _alone_ here, behind closed doors?" Maria blurted, accusingly.

The smile froze in his face.

"It is not his place to draw any conclusions. He _is_ my butler, not my chaperon. He may say whatever he wishes to say, no one in his or her right mind would take him seriously."

"You know that it is not true. There will always be damage. You are just bringing more slander upon us!"

His short intake of breath told her that he too may have realized his mistake only too late. Without a word, he rose from the desk again, and rushed to the door.

"I asked you give me your trust, didn't I?" He opened the door and slowly paced back towards her. "There, no more closed doors between us and the rest of the world, at least for the moment," he announced, with a theatrical gesture. "As for the _shouting_, I will make sure I'll apologize as soon as possible. I merely allowed my notorious von Trapp temper to get away with me. Would that make you feel better?"

"Yes, it would. Thank you," she whispered. "It is not that I do not trust you, Cap…tain," she cleared her throat. "It is the people around you I am not sure about." Calling him _Captain_ was becoming increasingly unnatural to her, so much that she now choked on the word. Yet, calling him anything else would feel excruciatingly intimate. She simply did not know what to do.

"The people around me…" he echoed thoughtfully, then grimaced. "Mmm… Again, you have a point. Well, in just a few hours, I swear it will hardly matter what Franz or "_the people around me_" as you so delicately put it, have to say to anyone about us. In fact, I feel a kind of perverse delight trying to imagine the look in some of their faces by this time tomorrow…" He smiled wickedly, but his smile disappeared and his voice softened when he noticed her obvious distress. "I promised I would make things right before the day was over, remember? Why can't you find it in your heart to believe me _just this once_?"

"_Because I once dared to hope that you loved me only to return and find you engaged to be married with another woman,_" she wanted to scream.

"Yes, you did say you would make things right _with the Baroness_," she said instead, emphasizing the mention of his fiancée.

He interrupted. "Forget the Baroness. I never said I would…"

"It does not matter what you said. Whatever it is that you are doing… Oooooh, I _have_ to be honest, Captain, you are doing a _terrible_ job at it so far," she finished angrily.

"I know!" Her jaw dropped – he was never the kind of man who would admit a mistake so easily. "I also know I can fix things from now on. It starts tonight… What? Why are you shaking your head like that?"

"You… you are confounding me. Not just me – _everyone_! I - I don't know what you want. That is, I…I think I know what you want, but I am don´t know if I should believed it."

"Why not, Maria?"

Her blunt honesty was back. "Because it… _terrifies_ me," she choked on the words.

"What is this terrible thing you think I want from you?" There it was, that soft, half smile again. "Why does it frighten it so much?"

"Stop it! You are doing it again," she muttered impatiently, then looked away.

"I just don't want you out of my sight until I can talk to you without being afraid of any untimely interruptions," he said. That is _all_ I want for the moment. It is all I ask of you."

"You do not want me _out of your sight? Out of your sight_, when it is the fact that I am constantly _in your sight_ that got us both into this awful mess. Oooh!" Her hands dropped to her side, clenched into fists, and she glared at him. She flushed hotly, as she too started pacing around his study, stomping her feet on the ground with every step. "Having me at the dinner table tonight without the children present will only make things worse. For _everybody_. You, the Baroness and for the children… and for me," she added bravely.

Having said that, she thought he would scold her again, but he did not. He whispered something that sounded like a curse – and this time, it was he who looked away from her as he paced around the room. For the first time since her return, she saw a flicker of guilt etched in his features.

"You may be right about many, many things, but you are wrong about dinner," he spoke suavely. "One of the children will be there - Liesl, remember?"

"As your daughter so wisely puts it, she is sixteen going on seventeen and she does _not_ need a governess," she said, ironically.

"On the contrary – she will need one in case any _telegrams_ are delivered during the meal," he reminded her subtly.

"Oooohhh!" Maria rolled her eyes. "There is no need for you to worry about that boy Rolf anymore, Captain. Liesl hasn't mentioned him in weeks. Thanks to the Baroness, she now has her mind set on being a debutante in Vienna. That is all she dreams about, day and night. She will be crushed if you don´t make things right with the Baroness!"

"Ah ha! My daughter will survive, with or without the Baroness, I can assure you. However, for the moment, in her eyes you are still her trusted governess. I would like you to keep an eye on things… although Liesl and her little Nazi acolyte are not the main reason why I want you there tonight."

"It isn´t?"

"It is one of my motives, I can't lie to you about that. I have never… been in a similar situation before, but I can say that hiding and running away is what will make everything worse." He stopped pacing and glanced at the clock. "Our guests will be here shortly and they will be expecting you to be there. If you are not…" he grimaced. "People _will_ make their own wrong assumptions. They may think you are hiding out of guilt, and you have nothing to hide. Do you?"

She swallowed and looked down, wondering how much of her newly discovered feelings for him were apparent, even if she had not said a word about it, except to the Reverend Mother.

"That is what I thought," was his enigmatic response. When she remained silent, it was his turn to taunt her. "What is it now, why the silence? Aren't you going to ask me, like you did before, if I am saying _no_ to you just because you are the one doing the asking?" he finished with a low chuckle.

She still found nothing to say.

"Please, say something. Fight me back, if you must. I miss your fiery temper. I… I do not wish to be the one to break your spirit."

"_But that is what you did…_" she thought.

"Is there anything I say or do that can help you change your mind about dinner?" she pleaded, meeting his eyes, one last time.

"No. My mind is made up already." Seemingly relaxed, he let himself fall in his huge leather chair again, crossing his long legs before him.

There was only one final question she had to ask him, to prepare her for what was to come.

"Erhm – What… what have we possibly to talk about afterwards?"

"You said I am confounding you."

"You are!"

"Very well, let me just say that I fully intend to – uh – _unconfound _you. To enlighten you, to clear everything once and for all, without the slightest shadow of a doubt. My -" he cleared his throat, "– my intentions towards you, for instance."

"Your _intentions_ towards me?" she nearly chocked on the words. They only proved their worst suspicions. How could a man like him have any _intentions_ towards her? – Any respectable intentions, at least. "You don't need to wait until later to tell me that. I happen to know _exactly_ what you want from me."

His eyebrows rose. "No, no, no. I am quite sure you do not," he retorted, confidently.

"Yes, I do. I've known it since the night of the party, the Baroness opened my eyes to it."

"The Baroness!" He seemed _disconcerted_.

Before she could filter what she was saying, her words were out of her mouth. "You don't need me at the dinner table for that, you need me in your b…"

"Ah-ha! Don't say it!" He jumped from his chair and walked towards her, his eyes shooting blue daggers. He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "You have no idea of what you are saying, of what you are _thinking_."

"Oh, really?"

"No wonder you are terrified," he muttered under his breath.

"That is what everybody else seems to believe, so _why not me?_"

"You do not, you _cannot_. If you truly believe that, then _why the hell did you come back to me_?"

Dazed, Maria merely shook her head. It was true, she had come back.

_Back t__o him_.

Not to the children, not to his house – to _him_. Because she loved him. It was the only possible explanation, but one he would ever hear from her.

He approached her slowly and Maria forced herself to hold her ground. She looked up to him, defiantly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He came to a stop so close to her that the toes of their shoes almost touched, so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, so close that she could smell his expensive cologne. Yet, he never made any motion to touch her. She fixed her gaze on the knot of his tie.

"Just… look at me," he pleaded, coaxingly. "Please."

"No," she denied him stubbornly.

"Fine, then don't look."

His attempt at reverse psychology worked. Defiantly, she faced him, hurtfully.

"No," he said softly.

"No what?"

"This is not the look I want to see, however. I want to see the look in your eyes tonight when you realize how absolutely, how completely _wrong_ you are, Maria, because I'll remember it forever."

"My eyes are my own and you have no business looking into them _ever… again_! (2)" she exclaimed, not worrying, for a second, that the door was open and anyone walking outside in the hallway could hear her.

She tried to walk away, but he held her shoulders firmly, forcing her to stay.

"Let me make myself very clear," He said the words slowly, his voice merely above a whisper, but the tone was dark and menacing. It was the Captain at his worse – or was it his best?

"Good! That is all _I_ ask of you," was her confident retort.

His next words shocked her to the core.

"If I _only_ wanted in my bed, Maria, you would have been there!"

As if to make his point, his hands dropped from her shoulders suddenly. He immediately stepped away from her, as if to give her room to breathe. Maria had to grip the back of a chair for support. Her knees felt weak, and she felt the most absurd desire to be struck by lightning at that very moment. She could have died of shock.

"I… I… I have to go now," she mumbled, massaging her temples.

Slowly, his words began to make sense to her in her dazzled state. Realization brought with it that anguished but awfully familiar feeling.

_Rejection_.

Less than one hour ago, she was even _considering_ to violate all of her values, her beliefs, only to be able to live a few stolen moments with the man she loved, only so that she could have memories to carry her for the rest of her life. That was how much she loved him. Because he may not love her, but she was led to believe that he wanted her, and if that was all he would have to offer her, she would gladly take it. But now he had told her the crystal clear truth, devoid of metaphors of any kind.

_He did __not__ want her. _

In his own words, if he truly wanted her, he would already have her. He may have wanted her in the past… the night in the attic, the Ländler…

It made sense – why would he ever wait? Their social differences were enough to excuse him from doing the honorable thing afterwards and marrying her. There would not be the slightest stain in his reputation as a consequence, he would remain unscathed.

Except that _he did not want her anymore_.

He was right all along, he had been screaming it at her, but she had refused to listen.

_Liesl_ was the reason why she had to be at dinner. She was, after all, in his words, her trusted governess, and he only needed her to guide the sixteen year old into her very first formal dinner. If not for the Baroness's sudden – and still mysterious – departure, he might not need her at all. Baroness Schroeder, with all her social expertise, would be the one to take Liesl under her wing.

But it wasn't only Liesl. There were the guests, of course. _The guests_ wanted her to be at the dinner table, not him. The Schneider's wanted her to be there because, as she had been told more times than she could possibly count, she was refreshing. They craved her eccentricity, her outspokenness. Max Detweiler may want her there too, just as he had wished her to stay after the children retired the night of the party - for _business reasons_.

Captain von Trapp… He was only acting the perfect host he was brought up to be, making sure his guests had a wonderful time. It had nothing to do with her, to what he felt for her.

Lord, he really felt _nothing_ for her, he did not even want her in the most basic ways!

_Nothing!_

And since her religious life had taught her that _nothing comes from nothing,_ that meant he would never want anything from her.

"I think you should go now, Maria. We'll… clear this entire mess after the dinner." He had his back to her now, but his voice was soft when he spoke. Oh, so soft! Enough to make her want to jump in his arms and tell him she would do whatever he wanted her to do, go wherever he wanted her to go.

"_But he does not want you_!" her conscience screamed, and that was enough for her to regain control, before she completely humiliated herself. Yes, she was hurt, she was miserable, she was angry. Still, a little voice inside her told her that she should listen to whatever he had to say to her later, she would allow him to enlighten her, as he said he would. Whatever his answer would be, that would be the end of it. Even if he resuscitated the Imperial Navy, that would not be enough to keep her from leaving.

"_You don't want me…_" she whispered dreamingly.

She saw the immediate look of shock in his face, even in her dazed state. His retort was quick and unfaltering, bluntly honest as her whispered thought had been. It did not come in a hushed whisper, like hers – he shouted it.

"_Of course I do!_"

"I - I don't understand! You…"

Maria's voice trailed away when Georg turned to face her again, the purpose in his eyes unmistakable. If not for the voices outside, in the hallway, the outcome of the scene might have been different. She all but jumped when she heard the first words, turning away from him.

"_Oh, seating people at the dinner table tonight in a proper manner will be a nightmare! Georg and his eccentric friends… God knows how my daughter put up with them,"_ Frau Whitehead was saying. _"Where is Georg, anyway?"_

"_He must be in his study at this hour, Madam,_" was Frau Schmidt's reply.

"_Good, I must have a word with him. Meanwhile, about the menu…"_

"We have to put a stop to this. You know that, don't you?", Georg spoke, his voice drowned the rest of the trivial conversation happening outside. He was right behind her, speaking so close that she felt his warm breath on her temple. The feeling was much too keen for her to bear and she stepped away, running to the open door that led to a balcony. She was confused, she did not know what to think.

She was _afraid_ to think.

"No more running away."

_Running away? _Was he insane? She could barely keep herself from running to him, and not from him. First he said he did not want her, only to shout that he did scarcely one minute later!

"What would you expect me to do?" Maria turned around to face him as steadily as she possibly could, in spite of her inner turmoil.

"You know what I want you to do, Maria. Please, just – _trust me._"

She swallowed the huge lump in her throat. "What if I give you my trust – then what?"

"It is all very simple want you to have dinner with me and my friends. Not as Peggy Schneider's guest, not as Liesl´s governess, but _my_ guest. In fact," he leaned towards her slightly, and lowered his voice, as he issued his challenge: "I _dare you _not to be there."

"_O-ho, he had to know I would answer to that!"_ she thought, feeling her old defiant nature surface again. It showed in her eyes, in her stance, and Georg saw it. It brought a smile to his lips.

"There you are, Georg!" Gromi said, waltzing into the room. "I'm sorry, I did not know you were… busy," she added, when she saw Maria, standing by the door to the balcony.

Maria knew a brief moment of panic, for she simply _could not find her voice. _

"It's all right, Gromi, Maria was just…," he said, coming to her rescue.

"… leaving," she said quickly, completing his sentence. "Yes, I was," she managed to say. "I must… help Liesl with the… with her dress."

"Good. Now, if you have a moment, Georg, I must discuss the placement of our guests around the table. It's proving to be such a nightmare, and I don't know what to do."

She left silently, closing the door behind her.

ooooooooooooooo

_A/N: (1) See "Treasures" and "Austrian Folk Dances I – The Ländler". (2) The "my eyes are my own" line is from the real Maria's book__, "Maria". _


	11. Chapter 11

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****10**

**OOO**

_**A/N: 1. My thanks to AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed, who will be betaing this stories from now on. She´s been doing a great job so far, and I hope she can keep up with my chaotic mind:-); 2. There are references to several older stories of mine in this chapter (The 12th Governess, Treasures and Edelweiss). If you haven´t read them, it should not be a problem. There are also some original characters that are not part of the movie that may be unfamiliar to those who have not read the earlier stories. 3. At last, but not least, I will never tire of thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**_

_**Disclaimers: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

**_Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat._**__**_Sun Tzu_**

******OOO**

_**I don't think you want too much sincerity in society. It would be like an iron girder in a house of cards. **_

_**W. Somerset Maugham**_

_**OOO**_

_**There can be no defence like elaborate courtesy. **_

_**E.V. Lucas**_

**OOO**

Acting like the perfect, charming host that evening was harder than Georg von Trapp thought it would be at first. He wondered why he had allowed himself to be convinced to have all those people for dinner at a time like this. Telling himself that it was not necessarily a formal social occasion, just a gathering of friends and family, did him no good. He was not a patient man by nature, so telling himself that patience was indeed a virtue and that he would be rewarded for the infinite forbearance he had shown in the past few days was useless. His powers of restraint were reaching their limits, the social mask that he had been trained to wear from the cradle was becoming more and more burdensome.

"_This is taking too bloody long,_" he sighed.

Yes, it was taking far too long: too long until he could hold the woman he loved in his arms, and start making up for the living hell he had put them both through recently. Too long to finally feel her body close to his, to touch her pink, soft lips, which had never known a man's kiss.

Never before in his life had he had to exercise such endurance when it came to a woman. Naturally, he tried _not_ to consider that that it would still be weeks before there were no barriers of any kind between then, when he would finally be able to teach her everything about the sheer beauty and holiness of the love between a man and a woman. But no, thinking about that tonight of all nights would drive him insane. Tonight, all he wanted was to hold her, to give Maria her first real kiss, and to say to her those three words that he'd once thought he would never say again. He would be the happiest man on earth if he accomplished only that, because it had become so evident in the past three days that she loved him.

Yes, Maria loved him. She was being so enchanting, so adoringly obvious about it. The only thing she had not done was to say the words, but he could almost see them etched in her brain when he practically yelled to her: "_Why the hell did you come back to me?"_ It was certainly only the years and years of convent upbringing that finally succeeded in curbing her tongue, keeping her from shouting back the words: _"Because I love you_!" But he had heard them loud and clear; he'd seen her struggling not to say it.

Granted, the situation was not entirely his fault. But it was his fault that he was so distracted by that certain young woman —a woman whom he would make _sure_ would never be a nun— so enchanted by her every move and, finally, so worried about her, that he had forgotten how manipulative his mother-in-law could be when she applied herself to it. If not for the blasted dinner party, he would have Maria in his arms by now, and would already have asked her to become his wife!

The dinner party… Gromi´s brilliant idea — ironically speaking, of course. He had to go through it first, and make sure that Maria did too, unscathed by whatever Frances Whitehead had in mind for both of them.

Now, most of his guests had already arrived, and were enjoying their customary glass of champagne in the drawing room. He took a deep, calming breath. So far, everything was under control, everything was going exactly according to what he had planned.

Well, _almost_ everything. He should have known that Gromi would have one or two little tricks stored under her sleeve.

"_You may sow your wild oats in any manner you wish, Georg, that is absolutely none of my business, or anybody else's. But when it comes to marrying and providing my grandchildren a new mother worthy of their name, it would be wise of you to choose someone of your station and breeding,_" she had said again, during another brief altercation they had in his study just before dinner.

He had to resort to sarcasm to give her what he thought was a fitting answer.

"_My _breeding_? Gromi, I hate to remind you of the unmistakable fact that I am not a horse!"_ He had nearly shouted the last words, and Frances Whitehead had left his study with an outraged moan and her nose up in the air.

It wasn't until Franz announced the arrival of Baron and Baroness Eberfeld that he realized exactly how devilishly cunning Agathe´s mother could be.

"_You won't mind, will you, Georg? The poor little darling lost her betrothed only a month ago in that ghastly hunting accident. It was the first time her mother convinced her to leave the house!_"

Yes, Frances Whitehead could be absolutely Mephistophelian when she believed she had a mission to accomplish. He was now reminded that Baroness Eberfeld, who was a sweet and affable old woman under any normal circumstances, could be absolutely diabolical when it came to choosing the right husband for her only unmarried daughter. If he were not so distracted by his Maria, he should have guessed beforehand that they would join their nefarious forces tonight: the _poor little darling_ was Fräulein Pauline von Eberfeld.

He remembered Pauline's delicate beauty from a few months ago, a typical Viennese _débutante_ entertaining guests in her home, playing a mellow Chopin Nocturne, under the loving eyes of her fiancée (1). She had been only one of the endless list of eligible aristocratic young women who had been paraded in front of him after his wife's death, but fortunately one who had been lucky enough to find a better-suited husband, an honorable man who loved her and whom she loved in return. Sadly, the girl's good fortune did not last very long, because the next time he'd seen her had been in Vienna, crying by her fiancée's grave (2).

Now she was there, in his house, and it was so painfully obvious to him _why_, although it wasn't, in any way, the poor girl's fault. If anything, he felt sorry for her. Still in mourning, she sat at the grand piano, but she could not bring herself to raise her hands to touch the keys.

Oh, he knew the feeling so well. It took him years for him to feel alive again, and he could only pray that Fräulein Eberfeld was more fortunate. Unfortunately, having two old crones such as her mother and Gromi forcing her to attend a dinner party only weeks after she had lost the love of her life was not a good way to begin.

Amazingly, all his worries about his mother-in-law's matchmaking schemes vanished when she noticed that Pauline was being watched with unprecedented interest by none other than Dr. Wolfgang Thürmann, one of his best friends and the family physician – not to mention a confirmed bachelor. He chuckled, and wondered if there was still time to make one final adjustment in the assigned places at the dinner table…

Quickly, he accomplished the task, and by the time he returned to the foyer, Franz announced the arrival of Hans and Peggy Schneider.

"_Yes, Gromi. If it is a war that you want, you shall have your first battle,_" he thought, with a confident, self satisfied smile. "_As usual, you picked the wrong opponent…_"

He had rung them and asked them to come as soon as Frances Whitehead had announced her plans for dinner. Maria would need a few friendly faces around the table, and as outrageous and outlandish as the Schneiders could be, they had given him enough proof that they were fond of Maria, and they would stand by her side.

Peggy's very first words when she arrived proved him right.

"Now, where is Maria?" she asked, looking up at him rather insolently from her diminutive height. Since he was blocking the view of the drawing room door, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to look over his shoulder, until her husband stopped her placing his hands on both of her shoulders.

"She will be here in a moment. Apparently, she is being delayed by my daughter Liesl, who is recovering from - ehrm - a little tantrum," he informed her.

"Sometimes I am grateful that I was spared of the task of raising a daughter," Peggy grumbled, making her way towards the ballroom and peeking inside.

"She is not there," Georg said, not without a hint of amusement.

"Peggy, would you stop acting so damned suspicious. It is not like he has the poor helpless governess locked in a dungeon!" burst out Hans.

"Not when I don't even have a dungeon," he smirked.

"I don't know if I believe a man who walks around inspecting the extensive grounds of his villa with a very wicked looking _riding crop_ in his hand!" Georg grinned in amusement, remembering how, in the old days, they would tease him and Agathe mercilessly about his old habit of carrying around his riding crop, long after he was finished with his early morning ride.

"No, not a dungeon, perhaps, but you do have a cellar. _And_ an _attic_!" Frau Schneider could have no idea she had hit a mark, but the smile froze in his lips and his face hardened (3). They had always joked about infamous riding crop, and he went along with it, harmless as it was. But the attic, and what _almost_ went on there between him and Maria was an entirely different matter. Ever since that day, he counted his blessings that no one but him and Maria knew what almost had transpired that night.

"There is nothing serious with Liesl, I hope," Peggy said, returning to their side.

"Hardly," he said, alleviated because the conversation had shifted back to a safer subject. "Apparently, my sixteen year old wants to dress like a twenty-six year old… which I will not allow until she turns thirty-six, of course," he joked, with an elegant little bow towards Frau Schneider.

"Spoken like the quintessential military father!" exclaimed Hans, slapping his back noisily.

He smiled and shrugged. "Fortunately, Maria has the skills of a diplomat when it comes to dealing with my eldest daughter. She is just… _being Maria_ and helping her," he answered truthfully.

Clearly, Frau Schneider was not so easily convinced. Exchanging a quick look with her husband, she left, muttering something under her breath about not leaving until she found out, once and for all, what on earth was going on.

Shaking his head and scratching his short beard, Hans spoke next to him. "I thought you wanted us here to help you break the ice, not to extinguish a whole volcano," he said, still chuckling.

"Just you wait until you see the sacrificial virgin," Georg said between clenched teeth. Next to him, his friend laughed, until there were tears in his eyes.

Georg hissed. "This is not funny!"

"The joke was yours, Captain, not mine!"

"Yes, and I take it back. I am appalled by my own, bad taste." He glanced around him, to make sure they were not being overheard. Then he whispered to his friend, in a conspiratorial tone. "I have a favor to ask both of you."

"But of course, Georg!"

He looked at his long time friend, who had studied with him in the Fiume Naval Academy, who had fought bravely for Austria by his side. Only a few trusted friends knew the details of his love affair and subsequent marriage to an Irish girl named Peggy Malone and Georg was one of them. Correction – he was the _only_ one. Hans went through hell to have the woman he loved by his side, and if there was anyone in the world who would understand exactly what he was going through with Maria, and thus would be willing to do anything he could do to help, it would be him.

"Please, don't tell anything to Peggy yet, but I need both of you to be back here tomorrow morning, as early as you possible can. In fact, I was wondering if you would be willing to leave that dusty old shop of yours and spend a few weeks in Aigen."

"That could be arranged. I don't think Peggy will mind a few weeks in the country. May I ask why?"

"I'll need chaperons."

Hans's eyes widened, for he certainly knew the full implication of the statement. "Are you trying to tell me you are really marrying that Baroness after all?" He was stupefied for a moment.

"Wrong bride," he corrected between clenched teeth. "And lower your voice, will you?"

"Georg, are you trying to tell me that you are considering…"

Georg did not give him the chance to complete the thought.

"I am not trying to tell you anything _yet_."

"But there will be a wedding," Hans speculated.

"Possibly," was Georg´s enigmatic answer.

"Yet, you are not going to tell me _who_ the blushing bride is?"

"No," was the definite answer. "You'll find out soon enough – if you haven't guessed already. You also know as well as I do that, considering all the chitchat that has been going on about what is _allegedly_ happening in this house, Max alone won't be able to do much, no matter how good his intentions might be. No, I'll need this house filled with chaperons of unquestionable reputation."

"_Unquestionable reputation_? My Peggy and I?" Hans chuckled. "Ah ha, I am certainly more than flattered, but my wife will have a good laugh when she hears that one."

"This is precisely why you are not telling her at the moment. I am placing my full trust your discretion, Hans," he cautioned. "It is not going to be only the two of you. I already sent a telegram to my aunt Alicia in Vienna and she will be here in two days."

"That formidable old hag here? I am really looking forward to this now. Watching Frances Whitehead and Alicia von Trapp fighting to protect the virtue of your _bride_ will be undoubtedly entertaining – that is, if they do not throttle each other first..."

The sound of laughter coming from the drawing room made them halt their conversation immediately. The Captain nodded towards the door, and he and Hans went to join the other guests.

He quickly scanned the other people in the drawing room.

Gromi and Baroness Eberfeld were exchanging conspiratorial whispers, as they looked from Pauline to him, then back to Pauline, most probably devising ways in which they could bring the two of them together.

"_They simply will not give up, will they?_"

He grimaced in distaste. Blessedly oblivious of it all, Pauline Eberfeld, was now talking to Dr. Thürman, who was leaning against the piano. Not far away, Baron Eberfeld was delivering one of his never ending political-philosophical speeches to Max who had the most comical, bored look on his face. Herr Detweiler did nothing to hide his relief when Hans and Peggy joined them.

Only two guests had not joined the party yet. Liesl… and Maria.

"_Why is she taking so long?_"

He turned around in his heels, and marched out of the drawing room.

The two missing guests were greeted by joyful sounds when they approached the top of the stairs, on their way to the drawing room.

Someone was _singing_ – or at least making an attempt to.

"_I am the very model of a modern Major-General,  
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,  
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical  
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;  
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,  
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,  
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news –  
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse." _(4)

"_The good Lord told us to make a joyful noise – he never said anything about being a pretty noise,"_ Maria thought, trying hard to find some humor in the situation. She most certainly needed it!

The minuscule tear in the skirts of Liesl´s dress and the havoc it created in the sixteen year old´s mind had helped to keep her mind off the Captain long enough for Maria to recover her composure before dinner. Now the time to face him again was approaching, and she was beginning to feel nervous again. Her heart raced, her legs felt wobbly, she felt warm in spite of the cool night. She tried to shake off the feelings by focusing on Liesl, who had her own little demons to vanquish tonight. Her eyes were still reddened after her bout of crying. She could hardly blame her – her own eyes burned with unshed tears, and she would not be able to do a thing about it until she locked herself in her bedroom tonight.

"Well, at least that takes care of this evening's entertainment," Maria said, still trying to cheer both of them up.

"Yes, it is perfect," Liesl agreed. "I don't think any of us feel like singing tonight… Do we?"

"_No, we do not,_" Maria smiled at her, shrugging apologetically.

She could very well fool the youngest children, but it was clear that the three eldest von Trapps, most especially Liesl, knew something was not right with her. Whether they knew it had anything to do with their father, she did not know, but it would not surprise her; there had been just too many exchanged looks, too many casual touches, not to mention the fact that her face was constantly on fire around him. No, she would not be surprised if they had guessed that there was something beyond the normal relationship between a governess and the master of the house. For that reason, for the past few days, she had avoided being alone with them, so they would not start asking her questions that she would not be able to answer… simply because now she did not know any of those answers herself.

"_Liesl. Think about Liesl,_" she urged herself, looking at the girls standing next to her, as they were about to join the other guests of Gromi´s dinner party.

"You look beautiful, Liesl. The dress is just perfect for you," she complimented encouragingly, as they began to descend the stairs. "You have nothing to worry about. Didn't your grandmother assure you that you would be among friends and family? You probably know everybody who will he her tonight, there is nothing to be afraid of."

"_Who am I trying to convince – Liesl or I?_" she thought, with a sigh.

Liesl shook her head. "Yes, I know everybody, and I am not afraid, but I never attended dinner with the adults like this. It is something I always wanted, ever since mother was alive, but now… I don't know, Fräulein. Everything is so strange, even father is not himself lately."

"Is it your father who worries you?" Maria had to ask.

"Yes. Sometimes he looks so… _withdrawn_ again. No, don't tell me it is because of the state of Austrian politics, Fräulein, because I won't believe it. I would not be so upset about this, and I would certainly not have had a hysterical fit because of a ridiculous tear in my dress if I only knew what happened to the Baroness!"

"_Yes, I would very much like to know that too,_" Maria thought.

"Do you think that they broke their engagement?" Liesl asked. "It could easily happen, you know, because it was not official yet, only my brothers and sisters knew about it. They never made any formal announcement to anyone outside this house. It was going to happen in Vienna next week."

"I - I don't know," Maria said immediately. "Sometimes I think they did, and other times…" She bit her lips, realizing that she might have revealed too much.

"_You are still the governess,_" she reminded herself. "_Since you are the governess, it should not matter to you whether Captain von Trapp will or will not marry the Baroness. It is none of your concern." _The thought was like a stab in her heart. Liesl looked like she was about to burst into tears again. "_Oh dear, if she cries, I won't be able to help myself. I'll cry too, although it will be for a very different reason!"_

"I'm sorry, darling, I did not mean to upset you," she said, as calmly as she possibly could. "Oh, what is it?" she asked, gently, when they stopped half way down the stairs. "Only weeks ago you were worried about your father getting married. Now you worry about exactly the opposite!"

"I did not know Baroness Schraeder that well when I said that. Everything you said about her, you were right. She was helping me to become a lady that would make my father proud. If she was helping me, she would help my sisters as well."

"_Oh Liesl, you don't need a Baroness for that, darling. You were born a lady, just as the Baroness was_," Maria thought gloomily. "_I, on the other hand, have no idea how to talk to the people in that room without disgracing myself, and will have to struggle with the silverware at the dinner table tonight! Yes, all that, besides dealing with your father…"_

The sounds coming from the drawing room provided Maria with the excuse to change the subject.

"_I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;  
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:  
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,  
I am the very model of a modern Major-General."_

"Dear Lord, who is butchering all the _Pirates of Penzance_ like that?" Maria frowned.

"It's father!" Liesl replied, a little surprised, but with a huge smile in her face.

Maria shook her head. "No, no, darling. I've heard Captain von Trapp sing, and he does not sound like that at all!"

"I think I can take that as a compliment," spoke a full, resonant male voice a few steps below.

Only then Maria realized that the Captain waited for them at the bottom of the stairs, looking almost too handsome to be real, tall and impeccably-groomed. With a happy squeal, Liesl ran the rest of the steps toward him, while she remained behind, paralyzed. His complete air of self-assurance took her aback, considering their earlier conversation in his study, ending with his heated admission.

"_You don't want me…_"

"_Of course I do!_"

"Well, I am glad you could finally join the rest of us mortals," he said, sardonically. "I am glad you are here, darling." He kissed his daughter's forehead and raised his eyes to Maria. "_Both of you,_" he added meaningfully.

A melting sensation beginning low in her belly, spread warmth all over her body. Her knees weakened, so much that she feared she would fall in her face if she tried to climb down the rest of the stairway. Her left hand gripped the banister with such force that her knuckles became white.

"_Breathe, Maria, breath. Just breathe. Inhale, exhale – it is as simple as that…"_

"You are not going to scold us, are you, father? We are only fashionably late. The Baroness told me how important it is to make a sensational entrance every time you attend a social function."

"Hmmm…" He smirked at his daughter, patting her cheek. "Go on, Elisabeth. Make your entrance," he said, nodding towards the drawing room, using her full name, something he would only reserve for special moments. Liesl knew that, of course, and she glowed like if he had paid her a compliment. "Your grandmother is anxious to see you, and so is Baroness Eberfeld. She wants to introduce you to her daughter, Pauline, who is only two years older than you are. I think you will become good friends."

Nodding, Liesl made her way towards the drawing room. Georg turned the full force of his dark blue gaze on Maria, who still had not moved from her spot.

"Hallo," he said, his fingers tapping on the banister.

_Hallo?_

He had never greeted her like that before, not even in the past three days. Her jaw dropped and she blinked a few times as if to make sure if she had heard it right. When he was in a good mood, he usually addressed her with his usual formality. When he was in a bad mood, it was the usual _"Fräulein!",_ exclamation point and all. But "_hallo"_ was a word she had never heard from his lips before, one that she was sure was not part of his upper class vocabulary.

"_Don't think!"_ The rational part of her warned. But how could she not, with him standing there, looking up at her like that? Not only looking at her like that, just… _looking_ like that?

"Good evening, Captain," she greeted him back, formally.

"Would you like to join us too, or are you planning just to stay there – uh - decorating my stairway?" he taunted, his lips curling into a seductive little half smile that did nothing to slow her heartbeat.

"_Breathe!_"

"Erhm… Oh no, no, no. I was only…"

"Yes?"

Her eyes searched around her, frantically, while she tried to think of something to say to him. They fell upon the Austrian flag. It was not the same flag she had seen hanging in that same place, at the night of the party. This one was much larger and more impressed, showing the imperial crest in the middle.

"I was only admiring your flag for a moment, Captain."

"My _flag_?" he asked, incredulously.

"Mm mm. Is this the one that used to belong to the last U-boat you commanded? The boys told me about it, but I had never seen it before" It was an attempt to make some casual conversation, but her uneven voice betrayed her.

"Yes," he said grimly. "It was the last flag I ever saluted."

Nervously, she started to descend the stairs, taking full advantage of the fact that now _he_ was staring at the flag. At first she tried to do it in the ladylike manner she had seen the Baroness teaching Liesl: her chin up, never looking at her own feet. Since she could obviously not look at him – not if she planned to make all the way down the stairs without disgracing herself – she kept her eyes fixed on the flag to her right instead.

It was a mistake of course, because after taking two steps, it proved to be an impossible angle for her eyes to follow. She was dangerously close to loosing her balance. Fortunately or not, he realized it before she did, and in just a couple of long strides, he met her half way. He took her left elbow and her hand, steadying her.

"Careful," he smiled. "Yes, I have many memories attached to that particular flag, good and bad, but I would hate it to be the cause of you rolling down the stairs."

"Thank you," she murmured. "I don't think that would qualify as a sensational entrance, would it?"

"No," he said simply, smiling and squeezing her hand, sending jolts of sensation all over her body.

His grip was firm, yet gentle. If she had made only the slightest motion to pull away, he would offer no resistance, he would let her go. They were alone in the foyer. No could see them. The laughter coming from the drawing room told them that, in spite of Max's awful singing, he was doing an excellent job entertaining the guests, now in the company of someone who was doing an atrocious attempt at playing the piano. All those things considered, he could have easily pulled her to him and kiss her, if he so wished, but he did not.

Perhaps it was precisely because of that reason she did not pull away. She simply let herself be guided the rest of the way down the stairs. The chivalrous gesture and his respectable treatment reminded her of the one remaining truth in her life – that she loved him. The thought made her heart swell impossibly and the tears in her eyes became dangerously close to falling down her cheeks, because with it came another realization, based upon such simple facts – _he would never hurt her_.

"_Maria, the love of a man and a woman is holy too,_" the Reverend Mother had said.

"_If I only wanted you in my bed, you would have been there,"_ he had said.

She had misinterpreted his statement, she had over-simplified it – she realized that now. If it did not mean that he loved her, it also did not mean that he did not want her at all. If just one among the myriad of sad stories she had heard were true, yes, he could have already had her, again and again. He would never have to force her – he had to know that as well as she did by now.

_Why __didn't he? _

Why not when he had all but screamed the fact that he desired her?

It was the sight of him looking at the flag that used to be aboard his submarine that gave her the first answer she needed.

"_Because the man you love is, above all, a man of honor,_" the voice of her conscience spoke.

A man of strong principles and values, who had lived enough, who had seen enough of the world and the lives of those less privileged than him to respect their values and beliefs, including her own. A man who would not defile or degrade her simply because his sense of honor would forbid him too.

The only manner in which she would ever end up in his bed of this man would be if he married her…

_Marry? But Baroness Schraeder…_

Baroness Schraeder hardly mattered anymore. If he was or if he was not going to marry her in the end, it was irrelevant. Maybe it had been for that reason that he did not tell her exactly what was going on. He could be a free man now, but one irrevocable truth would remain: in real life: Naval heroes simply did not marry their children's governesses. Maria could be as virtuous as he was free, and that would not make any difference – their very association would be enough to cause a scandal, and he would never put his family through that, not when there was enough gossip about them already.

_Not in the name of lust__…_

Suddenly, her future seemed bleak again.

What if he was going to ask her to stay, to help him raise his children, and nothing else? Would she be able to live like that for the rest of her life, under the same roof with him, knowing that he would never touch her and that she, on the other hand, would never be able to do anything express her love?

Such was the state of her mind when he let go of her arm as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She missed the warmth of his touch, craved it more than ever, now that it occurred to her that she might never feel it again…

She looked up at him, uncertainly.

"Maria –"

"Yes?"

"I want you to follow my lead from now on. It will all be quick and painless, you'll see… It will be over before we know it."

_Quick and painless?_

She would trust him with everything else, but she refused to believe that.

_A/N: __(1) "The 12__th__ Governess. (2) "Edelweiss". (3) "In Vino Veritas". (4) Max's singing is from Gilbert & Sullivan, The Pirates of Penzance._


	12. Chapter 12

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****11**

**OOO**

_**A/N: The first part of this chapter was based mostly on the comments lovethisstuff made while was posting this version at the fan fiction forum - a special thanks to her, for being such a valuable source of inspiration. I also must thank my new beta, AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed, who´s been doing a great job helping me with this.**_

_**Disclaimers and acknowledgements: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

"_**No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control: they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking, - a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless. **_

_**(…) I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me."**_

_**Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre**_

**OOO**

A comical sight waited for them as they walked into the drawing room: Hans Schneider sitting at the piano, eye-patch and all, posing as a grand concertist, but completely unable to hit the right notes in the right tempo with the two fingers he was using. Standing next to him, Max did his best to act like Caruso himself, perhaps trying very hard to prove — unsuccessfully — that he was not only an impresario, and that he much deserved the fame he craved and not only the money he made from exploring fresh young talents.

In spite of his amusement, Georg von Trapp winced when he saw his prized grand piano being treated in such a disgraceful manner, but decided to do nothing about it. He could almost sense Maria, next to him, bracing herself for his reaction. This time, however, the unusual distraction served his purpose very well. Every eye in the room was pointed to the spectacle provided by the duo, and no one was looking at the door when he and his future bride made their entrance.

"_It is like a festering wound — it is best to rip off the bandage quick,_" he thought, leading her towards Frances Whitehead and her personal guests, Baron and Baroness Eberfeld.

He gazed at Maria briefly, and this time it was she who smiled at him, reassuringly. Her tranquility as they entered the drawing room baffled him. Only moments ago, when he saw her at the stairs, she was holding to the banister for dear life. There had been a noticeable change in her — now she looked regal, serene. He had seen it happening, before his very eyes, the moment when she saw the flag hanging in the foyer. He dared to guess that her confidence in him was back. She may be unhappy, hurt and confused at the moment, uncertain about the future — but she had not lied about giving him her full trust. She was _smiling_ at him now, and Maria's smile was a precious gift.

Taking her to greet the elderly guests _was_ quick, but not necessarily painless. Of course he had enough presence of spirit to react swiftly as soon as he realized they were headed towards a delicate situation…

O-ho, he should have seen it coming, especially because he had allowed Gromi to be in charge of organizing every detail of the dinner party. The pink roses that decorated the house should have been the first clue: they were Agathe´s favorites. Flowers had been banned from the house — that is, until the new governess arrived. At first, he had battled to get rid of the ludicrous little vases, but they would be replaced with new ones as soon as he looked in the other direction. After a while, he noticed that Maria's colorful wildflowers, daisies and daffodils not only did not particularly bring any painful memories when he looked at them, but did wonders to bring some life to the cold atmosphere of his house. That was when he finally gave up fighting and let her do whatever she wished with her flowers.

The profusion of pink roses, however, were not the only detail. Subtlety was never Frances Whitehead's forte. There was a touch of Agathe in everything else: the dinner table, the champagne, the wines, the porcelain and the tablecloth with their monogram, the crystals, and, although he had no way of knowing for sure yet, the dishes that would be served in the five course dinner. He did not dare to ask, but he wagered he could guess every single one of them, from appetizers to dessert.

The plain truth was that Mrs. Frances Whitehead seemed to be going out of her way to remind him just _whom_ he had been married to. It was ridiculous, of course, that, at the same time, she was also making an effort to strike a marriage between him and a girl only two years older than his daughter.

Well, that was what Gromi had in store for _him_. As for Maria… he was about to find out.

At first, it all went as expected — Maria was greeted politely, but not without a touch of cool hauteur by all three of them. Sadly, in the eyes of the Eberfelds, he detected none of the warmth he had seen the night of the party, when they came to compliment her after the children's goodnight song. Maria held her ground firmly, her head high, and she did not even flinch when confronted by their less-than-friendly faces. She was, after all, still the same girl who, not long ago, dared to shout at him, at the top of her lungs, accusing him of being a horrible father.

He gazed at her proudly. If later tonight she granted him the honor of becoming his wife, it would be her, not him, who would get the worst part of the deal, by marrying a man twenty years her senior, with seven children of his own already. She had been a governess in his house. Yes, he had fought his feelings for her with every ounce of strength he had — and lost every single battle. For that reason alone, he could, and should, understand Gromi´s point of view, because he too, at some point, considered that his love for Maria was nothing but an absurd impossibility, an illusion caused by what he hoped would be an age-old confusion between sex and love. Now he hardly cared anymore that she did not have a single drop of blue blood running in her veins.

Since Gromi´s arrival, he was trying to make sense of everything. When he first met Agathe, she was the one member of the Whitehead family who believed that he was not good enough for her daughter. Her attitude towards him would not change until after they were married, when he was decorated and received the title of Baron. Before that, she could not understand how her only daughter could have fallen in love with a naval officer who preferred to serve his country aboard a cramped, foul smelling U-boat in the company of men recruited among bedraggled rascals from all over the Empire, rather than above the waters, where he could walk around on the deck with his fellow officers, talking amenities, without running the risk of ruining his precious uniform.

Now, it was Maria who was not good enough for _him_… and ultimately, for his children.

As charming and enchanting as Maria was, of course he was not expecting Mrs. Whitehead to fall immediately under her spell — especially not when the worst of the gossip had reached the woman's ears before she ever met her. He also had to concede that, with the possible exception of Elsa, and now Pauline von Eberfeld, she would have a difficult time any other woman he chose occupying her daughter's place. What he was not expecting, and would never accept, would be her attacking Maria unfairly, in any way that she could not defend herself.

That was precisely what happened next.

Maria's serene attitude immediately earned the respect of the Eberfelds — their haughty expression softened visibly, after only a few exchanged words. That was when he was reminded of one of the things he hated the most about the aristocracy: the uncanny ability some people had to elevate insulting to an art form. An art in which, unfortunately for them both, Frances Whitehead was an expert.

It was probably Maria's somewhat regal demeanor and the fact that the Eberfelds had visibly softened after the first tense moments that gave Gromi the final push to provoke her. Unintentionally or not, she casually referred to Maria using an old-fashioned term full of _double-entendre_ that could be understood just for what it was, or as a euphemism for… what some people were saying Maria was: _his mistress._ Of course he had no way of knowing if his mother-in-law meant what she was implying, nonetheless his anger flared. He was too upset to care if the Eberfelds noticed the malicious insinuation or not.

He would always remember the moment as one of those occasions when he was actually quite proud of his upbringing, of his social skills that had been so painstakingly cultivated. With a good dose of class and elegance that could only come years and years moving in the highest Europe's social circles, he gave free rein to his sardonic wit, neutralizing the potential damage by uttering a piercing remark in answer the veiled offense. Afterwards, taking Maria's arm, he immediately whisked her away to another direction.

"Now, _that_ was unpleasant," he rasped, as soon as they were a few steps away, and the sound of their voices was conveniently drowned by the dissonant sounds Hans and Max were still producing in the piano.

"Why? What just happened?" She frowned at him.

"Nothing you should worry about," he shrugged.

He should have known it would not be the kind of answer that would satisfy Maria. She stopped walking and faced him defiantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He quickly looked around; to make sure no one was eavesdropping. They were in a small room, but everybody else seemed otherwise occupied.

"I refuse to listen to any more vicious insinuations from _anyone_ this evening — or ever again," he gritted.

Maria paled. "So that was what that French word meant." Amusedly, he noticed that she stole a quick, but angry glance back to Gromi. "I had a feeling I knew, but I refused to believe it, so I said nothing. She apologized to me the last time and I didn't think she would…" her voice caught, and her hand flew inevitably to her short hair. "_Oh dear._"

"She will be apologizing to you again tomorrow, you should know that."

A shadow crossed Maria's eyes. "_She is under the belief that she will not be here tomorrow,_" he realized.

"You said to me once that love is not something you can control." His breath caught when he heard the unexpected statement from her. He _had_ indeed said that to her, the first time he saw her wearing that bewitching blue frock, strolling under the moonlight by the lake (1). A violent rush of feelings followed, and his fists clenched, while he fought to control them. Like that evening, he wanted to take Maria away somewhere where they could be alone and…

"_Later, Georg,_" he told himself. By that he meant _much_ later. One month, which was the time he believe it would take for them to plan a wedding. For the moment, all he could do was to _look_ at her, no longer caring how much he was showing.

"You… you can't… control it," she stuttered under the intensity of his gaze. "Can you?"

"Obviously not," he purred seductively, and she blinked a couple of times, as if she was trying to make sure that he was still there and looking at her like that.

"_Careful,_" he warned himself. "_You want to send your friends a subtle message, not post the bans tonight!_" Unfortunately, as far as Maria was concerned, he believed he had lost all the power for subtlety.

"That means you cannot force her to change her opinion about me," she continued — consciously or not, doing her best to help him lead his thoughts to a safer direction… and maybe hers as well. "She loves the children very much, she is only trying to protect them. M… making her apologize would only make things worse. Besides, there was no harm done, what she said won't change anything because I heard it before."

It was in the tip of his tongue to remind her that Gromi´s grandchildren were, first and foremost, his children, and it was his job, not hers, to protect their name.

"You are remarkably considerate towards her," he said instead, keeping his voice low. "I'm afraid I am not that compassionate," he grimaced. "That is why I put an end to it before she could say anything else to spoil the evening. I will _not_ allow her to make you feel less than what you are."

"No wonder you were knighted!" She blurted out the words. His lips curved into a soft smile, and she blushed vividly, biting her lower lip.

That was a side of her that she hid so well over the past few months, only to surface in moments like this, thanks to her notoriously fragile control of her running mouth. She was such a lovely mass of contradictions. When he first met her, he came close to believing that she did not have one shy bone in her body. It all changed as she started falling in love with him. She was always fearless when it came to dealing with his black moods, yet she had been at a loss for words whenever she was confronted with his softer side. He knew for a fact that she had always been curious about his past, but around him, she disguised her interest behind a mask of indifference.

At first he thought it was only a natural reaction, since the poor girl had been incessantly fed with stories about his military career, first by the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey, and afterwards by his children and every other member of his household staff. If she were any other normal Austrian girl growing up during the Great War, he knew what other stories she might have heard as well. The feats of the Austrian Navy and of those few who had been awarded the Knight's Cross of the Order of Maria-Theresa were stamped in the front pages of every newspaper. In those first few months after he was decorated, he could hardly travel by train or appear in the streets of the provincial town of Aigen without people coming up to him, asking to shake his hand or requesting his autograph (2). Such disconcerting hero worship was maddening to him, but Agathe had always found it highly amusing. If they only knew that there had been days aboard his U-boat when he would gladly have traded all his medals of honor and the fame they brought him for a pair of clean, dry socks!

Now, he wondered if Maria's feigned indifference indicated that once, for a brief time in her life, she had been one of those impressionable young girls. Her candid admission that as a child she fantasized about marrying Captain Nemo told him as much (3).

"I tend to live up to my reputation, _Fräulein_," he said gallantly. Her blue eyes melted into his and her blush deepened.

A few more introductions followed after that. It was all a blue tinted blur to him, and all he remembered was bracing himself every time, waiting for what they would say.

"_Fräulein Maria, allow me to introduce you Dr. Wolfgang Thürmann, a very trusted friend and our family physician…"_

"_Baroness Eberfeld´s daughter, Fräulein Pauline von Eberfeld…"_

There was hardly time for anything else. A veritable force of nature answering by the name Margaret Schneider finally made her way towards Maria.

"O-o-oh my darling, I was so worried about you!"

Peggy hugged her so tightly and so suddenly that it knocked the breath out of Maria's lungs.

"Careful, you are smothering her!" the Captain noted, with a chuckle, grinning apologetically at the elderly guests, who still watched them like hawks, now looking more than a little scandalized by Frau Schneider's sudden outburst.

"Worried about _me_?" Maria asked, just as Frau Schneider let go of her. "Why?"

"It will all be all right now, you'll see," she said, pulling Maria by the arm and accommodating herself in the nearest couch. "Come sit with me," she patting the place next to her.

"Ooooh?" Maria merely moaned questioningly, sitting next to Peggy, while the Captain flung himself elegantly into a chair next to the couch.

"I think that perhaps Frau Schneider was under the impression that I was using some of my notorious coercion tactics, threatening you with bodily harm if you did not accept my dinner invitation," was his sardonic remark. "I don't know what could _possibly_ have given her that idea."

Peggy whispered to Maria, loud enough so that he would hear.

"You _have_ seen his riding crop, haven't you?"

Naturally it would be months before Maria fully understood the mischievous innuendo and would have a good laugh about it. Now, all she could do then was to look at Frau Schneider, genuinely puzzled.

"Well, in the meantime, I am not letting Maria out of my sight until I hear everything about it."

"Well, it seems that too many people do not want me out of their sight tonight," Maria blurted, with an unusual dose of sarcasm, while he had the audacity to _wink_ at her.

"Let us face it, _Captain_, this is all very strange," began Peggy. "One day, rumor has it that you were going to marry some snotty Baroness from Vienna and that, oh, by the way, your governess had returned to Nonnberg _forever _to take her vows and become a cloistered nun_. _The next day we hear that the governess was _back_ from the Abbey and no one knew what happened to the Baroness!"

"I don't see anything odd about any of that," he defended himself. "Maria left, but she changed mind and she came back. That is all there was to it."

_All there was to it?_

Maria stared at him, mutely. He couldn't be serious.

Oh, how she wished things were so as simple as that. He did not even _care_ to mention Baroness Schraeder. Maria almost felt sorry for the woman, because it was like she simply did not exist anymore. Why was it still so important to him, to know the motives behind her return to Aigen? For three days, he had tried to hear the reason from her, again and again, although he had yet to ask her directly, demanding an answer. Something told Maria that tonight, after dinner; it would be the very first thing he would ask her… She could not possibly tell him the truth, could she? It would be too… _humiliating_, to have to bare her heart and soul to him like that. Would he laugh at her, for being so naïve to the point of falling in love with _him_, the first man who had crossed her path? A man who, in so many ways, was as distant from her as the sea from the Untersberg?

"_He fiercely defended you against Gromi just now, didn't he?_" she contemplated.

He had, and how enraged had he been when Frau Whitehead supposedly offended her. She wondered if anyone else had noticed it, but she had — his blue eyes darkened until they became almost black, his hands clenched into fists. He had not relaxed until he cleverly managed to remove her from Gromi´s presence…

"Mmmm." Peggy was watching the play of emotions in Maria's expressive face, her sharp green eyes narrowing. "Does that mean what I hope it means? That you finally came to your senses and decided you are not going to take your vows after all?" she asked, anxiously.

Next to her, the tension in the Captain's body was palpable once more. He leaned forward in his seat, bracing himself for her answer. She could swear he was holding his breath, waiting for what she would say.

She would not disappoint him.

"Yes, it is true. _I am not going to be a nun_."

There, she said it, though the words inevitably caught in her throat. It was the first time she admitted it aloud. She had come close to it that afternoon, when talking to him by the stairs in the veranda. Now she felt relieved, to say the least, like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The Captain relaxed back in his seat, scratching his clean shaven jaw and looking very pleased with himself all of a sudden.

"You finally followed my good advice!" Clasping her hands, Frau Schneider broke into a huge, beaming smile. "You did it, didn't you? You were _finally_ thoroughly and properly kissed!"

"I wasn't!" Maria shrieked immediately, sitting up, her spine straight. Her first instinct was to turn to him and add, "I swear, I was _not_!"

"I know," he reassured her but his unreadable eyes now fixed on Peggy. His face was a haughty mask when he spoke to Frau Schneider. "She wasn't!"

"_He never kissed me,_" her lips formed the words she would never dare saying out loud.

Why did it feel like he had kissed her, not once, but several times, thoroughly and properly, as Peggy had described? The truth was that there had been an intensity to most of their moments alone lately, that made the simple act of kissing unimportant. No, not only when they were alone — the intensity was there, even when they were surrounded by a small, noisy crowd. Just a few moments earlier, for instance, when she had lost control of her mouth and let slip that comment about how uncontrollable love was. He was not one inch closer to her than propriety demanded, he was not touching her. Yet, the way he looked at her…

"Of course she was not, because that could only have meant that _you_ had been the one to do it," Peggy's accented voice brought her back to reality. "The fact that you are looking at me like you would love to put a rope around my neck and pull it very slowly tells me _you_ did not. You _should_ have, and yet you didn't. Shame on you, Georg!"

"Frau Schneider_…_" he cautioned.

"Oh, do be careful because you are beginning to sound just like that pirate husband of mine. No fun at all! And you, my darling," she turned to Maria. "Here is my first invaluable piece of advice for you as I welcome you in this wonderful secular world_: if you are not going to be a nun, stop acting like one_!"

"Here, my lovely young ladies!"

It was Hans, who arrived bringing with two glasses of champagne in his hands, thus saving Maria from the awkward moment. She accepted hers, without thinking about what she was doing.

"Strangely, I feel like celebrating tonight," he said, taking another chair nearby. "And what is a celebration without champagne — right, Georg?"

The Captain did not answer — his face remained impassive.

"_Margaret_!" He exclaimed, turning to his wife. It was the first time Maria heard him addressing her by her full name. It surprised Peggy as well, because the look in her face was priceless. "_What did you do?_"

"Nothing, my dearest love!" she smiled with feigned sweetness, her green eyes twinkling.

"Nothing my foot!"

"My beloved husband, after so many years of married bliss, you should know me only too well! But the champagne is perfect — we do have a cause to celebrate," she said with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Oh?" groaned Hans, looking at Georg, still inscrutable, and Maria, who had no clue about what to do with the crystal glass in her hands. "You didn't!"

"Fräulein Maria is not going to be a nun after all!" she announced happily. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means… what it means," was Hans´ abrupt and very definite answer, in contrast to the startled look he threw the Captain as soon as Peggy revealed she was not going to be a nun. "O-ho, o-ho! You didn't, but you _will_, you…"

"Don't!" the Captain stopped him, sharply.

As soon as he said that, Hans fired a deadly scowl at his wife, which made Georg chuckle, obviously enjoying Peggy squirm under her husband's censure. In the meantime, Maria was tempted to take her first, healthy sip of champagne for courage — she certainly needed it. What stopped her was Hans Schneider, who was looking at her with sympathy now.

"Fräulein?"

"Yes?"

In his own, rugged way, he was a very handsome man, and she could very well understand why, in spite of their constant little disputes, Peggy was so besotted with him, even after so many years of marriage. To Maria, with the exception of the dramatic touch added by the eye-patch, tonight Hans Schneider looked as much a pirate as Georg von Trapp looked like a sea captain when she had first seen him. It was odd how two men who were apparently so different could be such good friends. With the exception of the love for the sea and a brilliant career in the Austrian Navy, they had little or nothing in common. Captain von Trapp had been born to a life of privilege, while one look at Hans told Maria that his background could not be very different from her own. Physically, they were also different. Hans was nearly as tall and fit as the Captain, but there was a rough, earthy quality to his good looks, while Georg von Trapp... no, she would not start musing about the way he looked, not _now!_

"What are you going to do now?" Herr Schneider was asking her.

"I'll stay until arrangements can be made for another governess," she said quickly, her eyes dropping to her glass again, repeating the same answer she had given Captain von Trapp when asked the same question days ago. "After that… I - I don't know yet, I must think about it. Maybe I can find a teaching position."

"Worry no more!" said Peggy, triumphantly, clasping her hands together. "Actually, this is why I asked your Captain to make sure you would be here tonight. Of course I did not know you had left the convent for good, but I was hoping that what I had to tell you would convince you to do just that."

"Oh, really?" Georg von Trapp asked, frowning. "What _exactly_ did you have in mind for your _protégé_, Frau Schneider?"

"Nothing outrageous this time, darling. Oh, but this is exciting! Everything is so perfect!" Maria smiled weakly at her. "You see, I happen have a very good friend who is the headmistress of a very exclusive boarding school in England. She wrote me saying that they were having a terrible time trying to find a music teacher. Naturally, I wrote her back and mentioned _you_!"

Maria's eyes shot open.

Under any different circumstances, she would have been delighted. Hopefully, that was precisely what would happen once everything was over; she would be convincing herself to feel just that way. Peggy Schneider was offering her a precious thing — a new open window!

"_When the Lord closes a door…_" It was not exactly the path she would have dreamed about, next to the man she loved, but it offered her just the slightest possibility of… contentment, if not happiness, in the future. She would cling to with every force she possessed, if she had to.

"Remember I mentioned our son, Patrick? Well, he got his medical degree and he lives there, not very far from the boarding school. I am sure he could help you to get settled…"

A fleeting thought crossed Maria's mind — Peggy had said she had been married to Hans for ten years, but they had a son old enough to be a doctor? There had to be an interesting story behind that, and, in spite of it all, she could not help but being curious about it.

Not now, however.

"No, no, no," the Captain said harshly, interrupting her brief reveries. His look was simply murderous. "You may leave that philandering rake out of this."

"I told you a thousand times, my son is not a philanderer. And Georg, darling, do you honestly believe that, now that this absolutely enchanting young woman has made the right decision to _not_ live in a cloister, she will spend the rest of her life without catching the eye of some eligible young man?" He replied simply by raising a mocking eyebrow. "There are plenty of them in my old country… although none of them hold a candle to Patrick, of course! By the way, did you introduce her to Herr Dr. Thürmann yet?"

The Captain rolled his eyes, while Hans laughed openly.

Maria eyed the sparkling liquid in her glass critically, trying to focus her attention upon that, instead of the man sitting not to far away, watching her intently. It would be her first taste of champagne…

"_If you are not going to be a nun, stop acting like one_," Peggy said, and later she would remember it as an invaluable piece of advice, one that she would have to remind herself of constantly in the next few weeks. It was about time she started to face the world, without her habit as a shield. She would have to do that, if she ended up leaving Austria to live in a strange country, wouldn't she?

While Peggy and Hans were busy arguing with the Captain about the qualities of their son, she took a small sip.

It wasn't the nearly mystical experience Liesl might have hoped for when she daydreamed about it. Maria made a mental note to tell the sixteen year old, as soon as she could, that she had not missed anything. It was merely white wine with bubbles that tickled her nose. It would not be until her honeymoon that her husband would teach her how to _truly_ appreciate champagne; then she would understand exactly why people raved so much about it.

So distracted she was for a moment that she never noticed that Georg´s presence had been requested elsewhere.

"Don't worry, Georg, we'll keep an eye on her for you," Peggy provoked him.

"Please, do not mind my wife, Fräulein," Herr Schneider said, apologetically. "Deep down, she means well. After three husbands she cannot stand seeing anyone who has not made his or her way to an altar at least _once_!"

"_Three husbands?_ " She could not help repeating after him. Her jaw dropped, as she started at them dumbfounded.

They did make a striking couple: Peggy, small and delicate with her flaming red hair next to Hans, tall and rugged. In spite of their bickering, the mutual love between them was obvious for anyone to see. They made no attempt to hide it. Maria was told that their public displays of affection could be absolutely scandalous at times. Assuming that Peggy had been in love with her previous two husbands, it meant that she had gone through that same agony that Maria was going through now not one, but _three times_. How had she survived such awful heartache, all that uncertainty not only once but _three times_? That alone was enough for her to gain a new respect for the Irishwoman.

"Ouch, Hans!" Peggy made a face at him. "The least you could have done was to leave my colorful past out of this!"

"You asked for it, _Margaret_!"

"Yes, Maria, darling, I was twice wedded and twice widowed before I married my pirate. Now you better explain it all to her, Hans," Peggy said, perhaps noting the puzzled expression in her face. "Otherwise she might think I am some kind of black widow who is bent on collecting and devouring husbands, God forbid!"

"Really, you don't have to tell me anything," Maria started.

"It is only fair, dearie. I have been intruding into your life ever since I first saw you," retorted Peggy, dismissively. "I'll let Hans do the honors. I'll tell you my side of the story one day, but I'm afraid you'll need a good stack of handkerchiefs when I do that."

"Ooooh, it can't be that bad," was Maria's optimistic remark.

"Well, it is not a story that has never happened before, again and again," Hans started. "In fact, if one of us ever decided to write it and sell it, it would be labeled as unoriginal. Peggy and I met when we were both very young. I was a sailor in my very first voyage, she was the adorably innocent girl from a typical Irish village by the sea."

"Not so innocent after you left, you lout," Peggy grumbled. "I think I need more champagne if I am going to hear my sad little story again," she said, getting up and leaving their side for a moment.

He continued, gazing lovingly at his wife, who was stopped by Baroness Eberfeld on the way to her champagne.

"We spent only two days together. I left, vowing to return and marry her, but I never did. I joined the Navy instead. The next time I was in Ireland, I looked for her. I was told that she was married, and that she had left the country with her husband and her young son. Of course I never knew that I left her pregnant and that the young son was actually mine!"

"Oooww," Maria moaned, touched by the story.

"It took twenty years until we could be together again. _Twenty._ I was back in Austria, and I decided to settle in Salzburg, to spend the rest of my days quietly, running my… uh… antique shop, collecting my books… One day, during the _Festspiele_, my good friend Georg von Trapp and his lovely wife Agathe invited for a music soirée in this house. There was this illustrious and completely narcissistic, egocentric, utterly insufferable _maestro_ who would be gracing us with his presence. He happened to be the conductor of the Vienna Philharmonic at the time. I don't have to tell you who the _maestro _was married to."

"Oh dear!" Maria exclaimed, now completely entranced by Hans's tale.

"I was sitting right here where I am now when my Irish Rose walked in. She pretended she did not recognize me, but I knew she did because she clung to her husband like ivy to a wall… I learned, of course, that, egomaniac or not, she was happily married to the man and she loved him. I, on the other hand, had done nothing but abandon her with empty promises and my child in her belly. There was no way I would disrupt her life now, she seemed… happy. So I simply bowed out."

"But… but you are together now! What changed?"

"Three years later, she was back to Salzburg, again for the _Festspiele_. This time she was wearing widow´s weeds, because her maestro had died one year earlier, and they were having a concert in his memory. She simply appeared at my door like that, threw herself in my arms and cried for hours. That day, among other things, I learned I had a twenty year old son… The rest is history. Plenty of yelling and arguing, and mutual accusations, but in the end, as cliché as it may sound, love found a way. It always does, Fräulein! We were destined to be together. Twenty years, one world war, two continents and three husbands were not enough to keep us apart."

Maria glanced at the Captain, now deeply engrossed in a conversation with Baron Eberfeld and Dr. Thürmann. His eyes met hers across the room and the sensation was almost too keen to bear.

_Twenty years…_

It seemed like an eternity to her, and yet, Peggy and Hans had survived and found each other again. How would the mere possibility of spending the rest of her life without the man she loved affect her? Would she be as strong as Hans, as fortunate as Peggy?

She looked at Georg, now laughing at something Max told him. The loss of his beloved wife had such a devastating effect on him and nearly cost him the love of his children. He had recovered in time, but even now, sometimes there was a shadow in his eyes whenever someone mentioned the first Baroness von Trapp, or when something forced him to remember her.

Would the same happen to her? Would she live in misery unless she found someone else to love? Would she be as fortunate as Peggy was when she met her second husband, as blessed as she was when she found Hans again?

"_No,_" she thought. There had to be more to Peggy Schneider's story. She could tell that Hans had always loved Peggy, but maybe, in spite of the fact that she had given birth to his child, Peggy did not fall in love with Hans Schneider until they met again after all those years, after her other husband died. Otherwise, how could she even bear to think of another man, let alone marry him, when her heart belonged to someone else? Without Georg, Maria might be as good as a nun, because she would never, ever consider even looking at another man.

What about Georg von Trapp? He had lost his Agathe to death. There may always have been hope for Hans and Peggy, but not for him anymore. Would he ever love again, with the same passion and intensity?

Oh, it was all so sad and depressing. So much so that this time, she could not prevent a stubborn little tear from falling. She dried it quickly, but she was not fast enough. Peggy, who was just returning, saw it.

"It is not fair, Hans. The sad version is supposed to be mine, not yours," she said. "You've upset Maria!"

"No, no, he did not!" Maria reassured her quickly. "It wasn't your beautiful story that upset me, it was…" Her gaze shifted again to the Captain, before she could help it, but he was no longer there where she had last seen him. Peggy was now looking at her intently, saying nothing. Unsure about what to say or do, she drank the rest of her champagne. She got up from the couch, to take her empty glass to the nearest tray and nearly collided with Georg.

"Allow me," he said, taking the empty glass from her hands. "This could go very quickly up to your head if you are not used to it."

From the couch, Peggy mocked. "Hah, trust me, darling, it is not the champagne that is up to her head at the moment."

It was Franz, who reappeared at this moment to announce that dinner was served that saved Maria from further embarrassment this time.

"Captain, would you beat me to a bloody pulp if I conceded myself the honor of escorting Fräulein Maria to the dinner table?" asked Hans.

"Not unless your wife scratches your other eye out," Georg teased back.

The friendly banter ended in laughter, as they made their way to the dinning room.

_A/N: (1) "Edelweiss" ("A Time for Peace"). (2) As described by John Biggins´s "A Sailor of Austria". (3) "Treasures"._


	13. Chapter 13

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****12**

**OOO**

_**A/N: Have you ever wondered why Paris was chosen for the honeymoon?**_

_**This was probably the hardest chapter I ever wrote - so many details to worry about. At the same time, it was so much FUN, and I will not trade that for anything else. It was first published in the fan fiction forum about one year ago, and ever since it went through many changes, and improved greatly. **_

_**I must thank a lot of people: My beta, who´s doing such a great work, the reviewers for their helpful comments, and at last, but not least, the ladies the fan fiction forum, for their valuable support and inspiration.**_

_**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

"_**Love until it hurts. Real love is always painful and hurts; then it is real and pure."**_

_**Mother Teresa**_

**OOO**

"_**Everything has a cause and the cause of anything is everything." **_

_**Walter James Redfern Turner. **_

**OOO**

"_Well, at least I am still myself,_" Maria thought, as she was being led to the dining room by one of Captain von Trapp´s best friends. "_It is either that, or I am going completely mad!_"

The thought came to her because just like in the old times, she felt the most absurd, the most uncontrollable urge to start _singing_. The wish to burst into song was so strong that she had to bite hard on her lips when she heard herself humming a few notes of one of her favorite mountain tunes. But then, when she saw the dinner table in its full glory, her jaw dropped. The low humming became an audible moan, bringing her dinner companion to a halt.

Ages ago, it seemed, when she accompanied a reluctant Captain von Trapp to a shopping spree in _Altstadt_, she had played dress up with Peggy with the wonderful fabric and jewelry that could be found in the notorious Getreidegasse antique shop, pretending she was a royal princess from a far away land (1). Reality was another thing entirely, but was _this_ real?

She was not a princess, let alone a royal one – she was a simple, Austrian girl from the mountains, who once thought she could become a governess simply because her mind was imbedded with the idea that it was God´s errand to her. Now, she was not sure she was even that, she still had no clue about how to find her path in life! She was not wearing a glittering diamond tiara, but a tiny anchor shaped brooch that the Captain had purchased that same day, and that she had won in a mock treasure hunt (1). She was not wearing richly embroidered white silk brocade, but a simple blue dress she had made herself. The truth was that, in spite of it all, she had felt closer to reality that day in the crammed antique shop that she was feeling right now.

"_I _must_ be dreaming! This can´t be happening to me…_"

"Is everything all right, Fräulein?" Herr Schneider asked. Right in front of her, the Captain too halted, turning his head only slightly – he may have not seen, but he had certainly heard her reaction.

"Ooohhh… Ehm… Yes, yes, of course," she answered hastily, hiding her free, fidgeting hand behind her back, not wishing to bring more attention to her than it was absolutely necessary. The Captain´s tall frame relaxed, and resumed his slow march, following his guests.

As soon as Maria had the first glimpse of the dining room, the inexplicable urge to sing was immediately replaced by another, this one stronger and harder to resist. The sense of unreality increased. Her lips twitched, and she felt like laughing hysterically. All she could see before her eyes was that exquisitely decorated table and the way people were elegantly placing themselves around it, as if they were used to doing something like that every single day of their lives.

Maria´s eyes widened even further and she blinked several times when she saw the card with her full name, Fräulein and all, marking her place at the table, written with the Captain´s bold handwriting. Instinctively, she gazed at him, but he merely gave one of his shrugs, accompanied by an almost apologetic little smirk.

Considering that it was a somewhat formal occasion, it was a peculiar arrangement. Nevertheless, she should have learned by now that, as far as rules of etiquette were concerned, Captain von Trapp did exactly as he pleased whenever he pleased. He followed the strict code most of the times, but he did not hesitate to break a rule or two if he had a very good reason for that. Apparently, he had a good motive that evening. Only months later, when Maria became more familiar with the intricate set of unwritten laws governing them, would she understand exactly how peculiar and eloquent the message Captain Georg von Trapp conveyed to his guests. At the same time, Maria knew that things were always done the same way with the previous eleven governesses, and he never saw a reason to change anything when number twelve arrived. That she had been told by Frau Schmidt, shortly after her arrival at the villa.

"_One more thing, Fräulein. __You will be expected to join the family for every meal. That starts with dinner tonight. Please, try not to be late, because the Captain cannot stand tardiness."_

"_But I thought… I don´t need to intrude upon his private time with the children. As I learned, they spend so little time with him, and every second is precious. I can eat in the kitchen with the rest of the servants."_

The housekeeper had rolled her eyes after she heard Maria´s answer. After saying that she should be truly honored, she patiently explained that, unlike in many aristocratic families, in the von Trapp household, governesses were held in the highest possible regard and were expected to take her meals with the family, and not with the rest of the help. When Baroness von Trapp was alive, she and her husband occupied the opposite ends of the table, the rightful places for the host and hostess. After she died, when only the family was dining together, it would be the governess who would sit in what once was Agathe´s, since, in that particular situation, the governess was the lady of highest standing present at dinner. It all changed, of course, when Elsa von Schraeder and Max Detweiler arrived: it was the Baroness who occupied that place of honor, and Maria would sit at the Captain´s right side (2). Not even the Baroness — who would have every reason to resent that particular arrangement — ever dared to question it, no matter how much it may have displeased her. Maria, on the other hand, never knew what was more enervating — to sit _opposite_ to him or _next_ to him.

However, the Captain should have one of his honored female guests sitting by his side, not his governess! Or his _former_ governess. Or his… oh dear, she did not even know what was her role in that house anymore! Worse, he seemed to be in no hurry to tell her!

Still bewildered, she looked at Frances Whitehead, who rightfully occupied the highest place of honor, on the opposite end of the table, with the Eberfelds seated on each side of her. Gromi did _not_ look happy, in spite of the fact that the elderly couple was saying how _marvelous and convenient_ the arrangement was, because they would be able to talk about old times without having to shout to each other across the table. It was also a well-known fact that Baron Eberfeld had a slight hearing problem… Yet, it was the Baron who first smiled at her reassuringly, unable to disguise a good dose of admiration, respect and… surprise in his eyes.

Those same feelings were there, in everybody else´s faces. Liesl was the only one who looked momentarily lost, looking at her with her mouth agape, as if silently asking her "_what on earth was going on?_" Hans and Peggy Schneider probably noticed how _unusual _things were, but they too seemed not to mind it at all, unconventional as they both were. Hans was seated at the Captain´s left side, with his wife next to him. Next to Peggy, puzzled and confused Liesl looked reasonably happy nonetheless, sitting across the table from Pauline Eberfeld. And so did Dr. Thürmann, sitting on Maria´s right side, with Baronin Eberfeld next to him. Uncle Max… well, he too looked satisfied, close enough to The Right Honourable Frances Whitehead. and the Eberfeld to be able to listen to some of the latest high society gossip.

She blinked a few more times at the Captain, before sitting down. He too was acting with his usual brand of elegant aloofness, like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the arrangement.

The only person in the elegant dining room who was _not_ able to hide her displeasure was Gromi, Maria noticed when her eyes shifted to the elderly aristocrat once more. Frances Whitehead still watched her intently, with a smug look on her face. Trying not to flinch, Maria knew what she thought she was seeing — a commoner in the company of noblemen, with no idea which knife or fork she should use first. Oh, Maria could almost read the woman´s thoughts, as she waited for the first of many faux-pas that she believed would follow in the course of the meal.

"_Well, I´ll prove her wrong,_" Maria told herself, taking a deep, calming breath, as she held Gromi´s gaze bravely — and challengingly. "_As you said to me once, Frau Whitehead, I dealt with a von Trapp and a Whitehead in the same breath, and I did just fine. A little harmless silverware won´t hurt me._"

With a little shrug, Maria sat down, as daintily as she possibly could, trying not just to let herself fall on the chair, like she usually did.

"There you are, Fräulein!" Dr. Thürmann teased.

"Yes, here I am!" she replied, trying her best to convey some of her old liveliness.

"You are surrounded by not one, but _three_ officers of our glorious Navy. It is quite an honor!"

"I suppose it is," Maria mumbled, smiling weakly. The desire to laugh still lingered, but it was momentarily relieved by a nervous giggle she was unable to control. If that was the Captain´s way of shielding her from most of Gromi´s growing malevolence, he was making quite a point. Any woman would feel safe surrounded by such formidable gentlemen!

Hans Schneider unknowingly echoed her thoughts. "Yes, I think this is Georg´s spectacular way of making sure no harm will come to you during the meal – unless, of course, the cook fails to live up to his usual superb standards!"

Georg laughed — a low, enigmatic laughter that only created a wave of goose bumps up and down Maria´s arms. If a comment filled with his usual dose of sardonic wit followed, she never heard it. She rubbed her arms up and down, shivering slightly, no longer feeling like laughing, but like crawling under the table. Across the table, Peggy´s sharp green eyes narrowed as she searched her face. Maria knew what she was thinking.

"_If you are not going to be a nun, stop acting like one!" _the Irishwoman had said.

"_But_ _how_?" she asked herself.

That was the real problem.

She had lived most of her adult life among cloistered women who had taken vows of chastity and poverty. All the time she had been pestered about the need to change her boisterous ways, to look and act more like a respectable future nun and less like a rebellious termagant. They wanted her quiet, subdued, disciplined — everything she was not most of the time. And she tried her best; oh, she honestly _did_ try to behave the way they expected to, no matter how _impossible _it was most of the time.

Now there she was.

Hopelessly in love with the unearthly handsome man sitting next to her, a man whose commanding looks had the power to make her feel unsure of herself, a man that could reduce her to a helpless heap of quivering nerves only by just twitching his lips into a devilish little smirk… like he was doing just now. Briefly, she wondered if the Reverend Mother, in all her infinite wisdom, had never guessed that something like _this_ was bound to happen. Georg von Trapp was just too much of a man, in every possible way, not to intrude upon the imagination of a sheltered young woman.

The point was, now that she needed more than ever _not _to act like a nun, for the first time in her life she had no clue _how_ to do it. She suppressed another giggle when she imagined herself signaling Peggy to meet her under the table so that she could finally ask her precisely how _not_ to act like a nun!

And all of it was _his_ fault entirely!

It was only _he_ who had this strange effect upon her senses. Hans Schneider with his pirate looks was a handsome man, and there was never the slightest hint of a goose bump whenever he talked to her. She did not forget how to breathe when she had to touch his arm while he walked her to dinner table. Dr. Thürmann was not quite as dashing as the pirate and the sea captain, but he too was a fine figure of a man; and yet there had been no butterflies fluttering in her stomach when he laughed. Her face did not catch fire when he looked at her.

No, Peggy may have given her some priceless advice for the future, for the time when, as much as it hurt her to consider the possibility, Captain von Trapp would no longer be a part of her world. For the moment, however, it was the one piece of advice she found almost impossible to follow. And the worst part was that the man in question seemed to be perfectly aware of her predicament, knowing _exactly_ what she was feeling.

"Are you cold…? Fräulein?" he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow when he saw her rubbing her arms.

_Cold?_

As soon as he asked that, she felt like she was on fire. She believed that her face could not burn any brighter, but she had been wrong. She was instantly infernally hot and flushed. Breathing became difficult again. The trouble was that this time they were not alone; she was attending a formal dinner in his house, sitting in a place of honor at his table.

She still had enough presence of spirit to glare back at him, and he chuckled.

For a mad, mad moment, she wished she could go back in time so that she could _not_ punch that first and only boy who had tried to kiss her. At least then she would know a little something, and would not be so awkwardly innocent. Maria did not know whether she wanted to yell at him, demanding that he put a stop at all the nonsense, or if she would rather follow _all_ of Peggy´s outrageous advice and _literally_ kiss that irritating smirk off his face. She could do neither, of course. Her eyes dropped to the table instead, and she realized that having Georg von Trapp sitting next to her may be the biggest of her problems, but it wasn´t the only one.

"_Oh help!"_

Maria had believed that after weeks of being coached by seven extremely well brought up children on how to handle complicated silverware, she would have been prepared for what lay before her. She was wrong. This was nothing like she had seen in their ordinary meals in the Trapp villa — not that any meal she had ever shared with them could ever be called _ordinary,_ in her view.

Yes, the elaborate setting looked complicated, because there was much more for her to deal with, which in her particular case tripled the chances of a mishap. She counted three very odd looking knifes on the right side of her setting, three equally strange forks on her left, plus a small fork and a spoon she knew would be used for dessert. There were _three_ tall crystal glasses on her right side, a small bread plate with a small knife on top of it, Finally, also to her left, there was a neatly folded linen napkin, embroidered with a monogram that drew her eyes like a magnet: the letters "G" and "A" — Georg and Agathe, under the von Trapp family crest. The same pattern could be seen etched in the crystal glasses and in the porcelain of her plates.

She had never seen that monogram before. Like the grand piano, such items had been banished from the household shortly after Baroness von Trapp´s death. Stealing a quick glance at the Captain, she found him distractedly following the "A" in his napkin with his finger. The look in his face surprised her — there was none of the aching sadness she had always detected before, when she knew he must be thinking about her. This time, he was actually smiling.

"_Oh dear Lord, help, help, help!_" she prayed, looking heavenward while she kept her hands neatly folded on her lap – only to remember that it wasn´t polite to keep one´s hands under the table during meals. Gingerly, she let her hands rest on the table, but could not bring herself to force her wiggling fingers to stay still so that they move rapidly, like if she were trying to play the Minute Waltz in fifteen seconds or less.

Maria closed her eyes briefly, hoping that the intricate setting, the disturbing monogram, the knives and forks that looked more like the medieval instruments of torture she once saw in the museum up in the Hohensalzburg Fortress would disappear, and in their place she would only see the familiar plate and spoon that she was used to have during her meals in the old days when she was nothing but a mountain girl.

She felt it then — just the lightest touch on the side of her left hand. Oh, she was sure it was meant to soothe her, to quiet her tapping fingers, or maybe, even a gentle warning for her to stay quiet and behave herself. Her hand stilled at once, but the effect it had on all other parts of her body was devastating. She felt it in the fresh wave of electricity that traveled all the way up her arm, in the flush that spread from her neck to her face, then down her body. Her toes curled. Her eyes immediately followed the source of all the sudden wondrous feelings, and she found it in his ring pinky finger lightly stroking her hand.

Her imagination began to run wild, out of control. She began to wonder how would it feel if his fingers… his hand… traveled up her arm, under the transparent sleeves of her blue dress, then up her neck. He could find the fastenings on the back of the dress and he would…

"_Stop it,_" she whispered breathlessly.

He must have heard it, because he obeyed it, removing his hand immediately. She looked at him, to tell him somehow that command was for her running thoughts, not for him, but his eyes were scanning the table, looking at each and every one of his guests. Hastily, she did the same, to see if anyone at all had witnessed his touch and her reaction.

Fortunately, dinner conversation began almost immediately, already flowing easily, beginning with the first universally accepted topic: the weather. It was Max who finally broke that reasonably comfortable pattern, while the first course was being served.

"I was wondering what you were up to tonight, Georg. Now I think I finally have a clue," he smiled wickedly, touching his moustache.

"How wonderfully perceptive of you, Max! Just… keep your clues to yourself, will you?" he grinned, but the dangerous cautionary glance was discernible.

"Up to no good, I hope!" Herr Detweiler shook leaned back in his chair, with a self satisfied smile.

"You may be right, Maximilian. I think I heard someone saying that it takes a very small act to start a revolution," Gromi said coolly. "Apparently, my son in law decided to begin his little private one by the way he chose to organize the dinner table!"

The Captain smiled dangerously.

"Gromi, as you kindly reminded my earlier today, this is not a white tie event. It is a gathering of family and friends and I think we can dispense some excessive, and, quite frankly, useless formalities. I – uh – rearranged things accordingly. That is, I believe the role of a good host, isn´t it?" he bowed slightly.

"Indeed!"

Was it Maria´s impression or did Gromi _snort_?

"Aahh, in moments like these I am always reminded of those poor misguided fools in Vienna who still think country life is tedious… I pity them, really!" Max mused. "Speaking of Vienna, have you heard from Elsa today?"

"As a matter of fact, _no_, Max."

"Oh yes, Georg. I am eager to hear more news about Elsa´s…_ mother._" Frances Whitehead theatrically rearranged her napkin, her patrician eyebrows raised.

Well, it was one question Maria wanted answered too, so she joined the other guests, waiting for his answer, wide eyed.

"No," he said simply.

Maria shifted in her seat. He could be so infuriating when he set his mind into it. No what? No, he had not heard from Elsa? No, he did not know anything about her ailing mother?

"This is unfortunate," said Baroness Eberfeld. "I simply cannot understand what could have happened to her. We went riding only two days ago and she looked as healthy as one could be!"

_Two days ago?_

Maria did some quick mental calculations. Four days ago she had returned from the Abbey, and two days later, Baroness Schraeder had suddenly left for Vienna. The reason for the sudden departure was because she supposedly had to take care of her sick mother, who, according to Baroness Eberfeld, was riding in the _Wiernerwald_ that same day. Glancing at the Captain, she noticed his face had lost some of its color – he too knew immediately that he had been caught in a lie. Oh, she had to say something before anyone else had the time to realize it. Naturally she wanted to know the truth about the Baroness, but not like this. He certainly had his reasons to come up with such a story, and maybe later tonight she would find out what they were. Right now, changing the subject became an urgent matter.

"I did not know you could sing too, Herr Detweiler," she spoke abruptly, for the first time since the meal had started. She was flustered, and her voice sounded too high and irregular, when it should be soft and low for an occasion such as this. Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, or the fact that the _governess_ had spoken, but the whole table to be silent. It did not matter to her. The important thing was that she'd had the desired effect.

"That is because he cannot," the Captain retorted. "Or do you consider the squealing we heard in my drawing room _singing_?"

"Squealing? That is much too cruel, but what can I do, Georg?" Max spoke, feigning offense. "Those who can, sing, those who cannot…"

"… explore those who can and inflict unbearable pain and suffering upon those who cannot," he completed. "Yes, I know that, Max."

There was laughter after that, and they were back to their universally accepted topics of conversation. Elsa and her mother were forgotten. By the time the last course had been cleared, Maria felt lighter, in spite of all delicious food that had been served — or because of the wine that was served with it, she would never know for sure. Proud of herself, she realized that she had even been able to exchange pleasant small talk with the good doctor sitting at her right side, always about the aforementioned universally accepted topics. As for the silverware, it never bothered her — she began watching the other guests, and would not start eating her food until she was sure which fork she would use. Only once she had reached for the wrong one, but she instantly felt his hand on her wrist, gently guiding her to the right choice.

"_This is going wonderfully well,_" she smiled, just as desert started being served. "_Mohr im Hemd,"_ another typical Austrian treat, one of her favorites (3). "_It is almost over now. Only desert left… Gromi has left me alone all this time, she has not even glanced in my direction. I am sure she will not try anything anymore. Who knows, maybe she has finally given up pestering me…"_

She knew what was expected to happen after desert — Liesl had told her while they were preparing themselves for the evening, just before panicking because of the invisible tear in her frock. The gentlemen would remain at the table to drink their port and smoke their cigars, while the women would discreetly move to the drawing room. Half an hour later, the men would re-join the women and a little more conversation would take place over coffee, at which point the party would finally come to an end.

"_Gromi calls it _"_withdrawing,_" Liesl had informed her, knowingly, tilting her nose up.

_Withdrawing_ was exactly what Maria planned at the point. No, she would not scurry away like Frances Whitehead probably expected her too, only excuse herself as elegantly as possible, as soon as it was polite to do so.

After the first few delicious bites of the rich chocolate pudding, Maria was pleased to realize that the conversation turned to the subject of traveling. Actually, for the first time that evening, she was very close to admitting she was enjoying herself. It was hardly a subject about which she could talk, since she had not traveled much during her life, but she enjoyed listening to the others' stories about the exotic places they had visited. They had plenty to share, lots of interesting experiences to compare. All the men had been in the Navy; all the women were well traveled. Peggy Schneider had toured the world with her second husband, when he conducted the Vienna Philharmonic. Even Liesl fondly remembered holidays in the South of France when she was a child. The only one on the table who had not set foot outside Austria was Maria.

The subject remained reasonably safe and not at all disturbing while they were talking about the South Pacific, the Sahara Desert or the African Coast, but when their conversation shifted for less exotic places, things took a change for the worse. Frau Whitehead took the opportunity to goad her again.

"You are so terribly quiet tonight, Fräulein Maria. We could hardly hear more than half a dozen words from you. So different that the girl who was described to me by Georg, the children… and everyone else in this table, I should add. It is almost frightening, isn´t it Georg?"

"Not at all!" He stole a quick, sideways glance to Maria. "I am sure Maria will say what she has to say when the right time comes," he added, enigmatically. "Am I right?" he asked her directly. She knew that he was not talking about whatever she might have to say about traveling around the world.

"Yes, Captain."

The unusually meek tone of her reply must have been hard for him to digest.

"You never admitted I was right about something so quickly! _Now_ you are frightening me," he teased. "Please, say something. Anything at all." His voice was again soft, like if they were having a private conversation.

"Oh, no it is just…" she did not know what to say and began shaking her head from side to side, feeling rather silly. What have happened to the excessive number of words everyone had always accused her of having inside her head? What had happened to what he had once called "_her unusual command of the German language_"?"

What could she answer?

That she felt like a fish out of water, even though, with the possible exception of Frau Whitehead, she had been treated with nothing but the utmost respect ever since this whole ordeal started?

What exactly had her so frozen? Was it that her feelings for the man sitting next to her were becoming so unbearably intense that she could hardly breathe, let alone know what to do with them?

Was it that she knew — because the Baroness had told her as much — that all it took was one word, one glance, and she would betray herself completely, thus making a fool of herself in front of all those people? They would know the governess was so naïve that she had allowed herself to fall in love with Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp, so pretentious that she had dared to dream in secret that he might return her love…

Her silence lasted for no more than a second, but to Maria it felt like an eternity. She had to say something. She must.

"_The wine_," he whispered.

Her eyes widened. It was so quick, and so subtly done that at first she thought she was hearing things. Was her momentary panic so obvious to him that he had come to her rescue, like a knight in shining armor? When she looked at him, he was busy enjoying his wine, but his eyes twinkled mischievously. No, her mind was not playing tricks on her this time.

She was just as quick taking his cue.

"… The wine! I´m afraid I am not used to it."

"Is that so? Oh well, silly me, I thought you were entertained listening to our fascinating traveling experiences," Gromi sneered.

"_That would have been the most simple and logical answer, wouldn´t it?_" Maria thought. "_Why didn´t I think of that one. The wine indeed!"_

"Talk to us a little, it will make you feel… _better_, perhaps," she continued. "Join our little debate and do tell us, please — what about you? Where would your fancy take you for a little romantic idyll? What would be the perfect place for a little… _rendezvous_?"

"_Universally accepted topics of conversation my foot_," she gritted as Gromi fired her questions. This time she did not need the Captain to confirm the meaning of the French term: a tryst, an illicit liaison.

Opposite to her, she saw that Peggy Schneider´s jaw drop —she was absolutely aghast, and would have jumped from her chair, straight to Frances Whitehead´s neck if not for her husband´s soothing hand on her shoulder. The Captain set down his glass of wine with a little more force than necessary, and watched his mother in law intently.

"Or, if you set your goals higher, a _honeymoon,_ perhaps, with the man of your dreams," Gromi finished maliciously, ignoring the menacing looks she was receiving from the opposite end of the table.

She closed her eyes, and then opened them again. No, this could not be real. After the scene with the Eberfelds, she would never expect Frances Whitehead would do that to her yet again and yet she just had. To make matters worse this time, other than glare ominously at his mother in law, the Captain did nothing to defend her.

Liesl, still in her childlike innocence, saw nothing of this. The impressionable sixteen year old just heard the words "romantic", "honeymoon" and "man of your dreams" and was deaf and blind to anything else.

"Oh yes, isn´t that romantic Fräulein? Do tell us, where would you go?"

"_Wonderful_," she thought, irritably, rolling her eyes heavenward, feeling closer than ever to losing her temper. Her decision not to take her vows had been made merely three days ago. Since then, she had every reason in the world not to fall in love again — if she ever managed to fall out of it in the first place. Now she was asked first to choose a place where she would go with her lover! She did not dare to look at the Captain on her left, but she heard his short intake of breath, she saw how his hands stilled, as he too, eagerly waited for her answer.

"_The fiend _wants_ to hear the answer,_" she concluded, stunned. "_That is why he did not stop her. Could this really be what he has in mind for me? Could I have been wrong all the time about the man I thought he was?_"

He did not give her time to think about it.

"Fräulein, why don´t you put an end to our misery — and yours — and satisfy our curiosity?" he fired, as she looked at him, a little bit shocked. There was the usual sarcasm in his voice, but he was also challenging her, daring her. "Tell us." The last works were spoken in a much softer, intimate tone.

Maria considered the question for another moment or two, while all eyes on the table focused upon her. The question had taken her by surprise not only because of its content, but because it was highly inappropriate, considering who were the guests at the table. There was Pauline Eberfeld, who had recently lost her fiancée, only weeks before her wedding. There was his young daughter Liesl, although Maria did not think she had grasped any of her grandmother´s intended innuendos. Finally, there was also Captain von Trapp… Yet, he did not seem to mind, and now he seemed the one who was the most anxious to hear what she had to say, although he was looking at Frances Whitehead like he wanted to throttle her.

"With all due respect, Captain I think you are asking the wrong person," she retorted politely, but dryly, her voice low and level. "I never fancied a little romantic _anything _in my whole entire life!"

He flinched, and she smiled inwardly. Whatever he had in mind, her comment had hit home.

"Why? You are a vibrant young woman in the prime of your life," Gromi insisted. "You must have thought about something like that before you entered the convent, every girl does… Haven´t you?"

"No, I never have," was Maria blunt and honest answer.

"_If you are not going to be a nun, stop acting like one!_"

Maria looked sharply to her left. She had not imagined anything this time: it had been the Captain who had said the words, barely above a whisper, but loud enough so that she, and only she, heard them. She kept looking at him, and one of the many silent conversations, that would soon become a habit to them, began.

"_I beg your pardon?" _she asked by frowning at him. "_How dare you, after it was you who…"_

"_You heard me,_" he answered with a sardonic half smile. "_If you are not going to be a nun, stop acting like one!_"

Very well.

"Paris!"

Maria named the place suddenly, in a louder voice than she might have intended. Dr. Thürmann jumped, Hans Schneider laughed, Liesl giggled; Peggy nodded at her, approvingly.

Georg´s lips — and for the first time in her life she actually thought of him as "_Georg"_ — broke into a breathtaking smile. She just could not look away.

"Paris?" he whispered, cocking his head to one side slightly.

"Yes. Paris," she repeated, still lost in his dark blue eyes.

"Brava, darling," exclaimed Peggy Schneider, clasping her hands. The sound brought Maria and Georg back to reality. Maria lowered her eyes to her plate; he raised his upwards, just before taking another large sip of his wine. "I just knew you would not disappoint me."

"Why Paris, Fräulein?" Surprisingly, it wasn´t Gromi asking the question, but Herr Detweiler.

Why?

Because it was the most unfit place for a nun she could think of so quickly. But mostly because in a time that now felt so long ago, when they would share their late night conversations, he would tell her about how much he had loved that city in his youth, and that if he had chosen music instead of the Navy, that is where he would be living now. He had described the city so vividly; in such detail that Maria felt that she had been there with him.

Ever since he had first spoken to her about the city of lights, she began harboring the secret desire to see it. But not the Paris reserved for tourists, or bored, rich aristocrats. Not even the glamorous Paris described in Baroness Schraeder´s glossy magazines. No, she wanted to see his Paris, the city he had described to her, the only other place in the world that was as close to his heart as Salzburg was.

Yes – Paris indeed.

"Ehrm… Because it has everything, doesn´t it? Parks, museums, concert halls, cafés…" There — it was the most mundane, uncreative, albeit completely inoffensive answer she could think of and she hoped it would be enough to get her out of that unfortunate situation quickly.

"So does Vienna!" Gromi said scathingly.

"Yes, so does Vienna," the Captain cut in. "But Fräulein Maria was specifically asked to give her opinion about a _honeymoon_ destination, remember? No matter how romantic Vienna is, people would still frown upon a couple of lovers holding hands in public. In Paris, they would expect you to do it! They are amazingly tolerant when it comes to public displays of affection. Wouldn´t you agree… Fräulein?"

"Oh, I must take your word for it on that one, Captain. I´ve never… been to Paris."

"Of course not, darling, which leads us all to believe that your experience with _public displays of affection _is just as limited," chimed in Gromi. "At least it was until…"

"Yes, but you heard more than enough about the place, haven´t you?" Georg interrupted.

So he _did_ remember it too, and knew exactly why she had chosen that particular place in the world when asked that very indiscreet question. Maria remembered Brigitta saying that her father noticed everything — it was probably the truest thing about him that she had ever heard, at least as far as Maria was concerned. The idea that he could read her so easily, when she was fighting harder than ever to keep her thoughts concealed from him was unsettling.

"_He knows_. _He knows everything! He knows how I _feel_ about him…_"

"Where did _you_ go on your honeymoon, Georg?" asked Hans, laughingly. "I don´t think you ever told us."

"The SMU-6," the Captain chuckled, just as amused. Peggy choked violently on her water and Hans started patting her back with a lot more force than necessary. Georg still distracted her. It was just as it had been when she had watched him tracing the monogram minutes earlier — there was not a hint that the memory was painful to him. It would not be until many years later that he would admit to her that he had not let go of Agathe until that evening.

Peggy shrieked, now fully recovered from her bout of coughing. "I thought women were not allowed inside those things. I lost count of how many times I asked Hans to arrange a ride from me in one of those underwater boats you and he are always talking about."

"The answer is and will forever be _NO_!" Hans exclaimed, as if the idea absolutely appalled him.

"My wife was not there with me of course," Georg explained quickly, amused by Hans and Peggy´s bickering. "I left for a mission the day after the wedding. The honeymoon was delayed for about six months — Florence, Rome, and then Greece."

However, Peggy Schneider was not the kind of woman who allowed her husband the privilege of winning and argument so easily. While others at the table were already discussing the beauties of Florence, Rome and Greece, she decided to provoke her husband again.

"For your information, _darling,_ this is the _twentieth century_; they cannot still be denying us women the right to go anywhere we want to, just because you _men _think we can´t handle it!" Peggy protested. "I can drive a _truck_, for crying out loud! What is so offensive about little underwater boat that I am supposed to stay away from it? Don´t you think that it is unfair?"

"No," said the Captain.

"Yes!" exclaimed Maria, rather passionately, at the very same time.

The Captain dropped his spoon and stared at her, quizzically.

"_Dear Lord, she is a feminist too_!" Gromi exclaimed.

The table became silent again.

"_What have I done this time?_" Maria thought. "_Oh dear, I always thought that love was nothing but pain and tragedy… I did not know it was also so complicated! I love him, but that does not mean I have to agree with him at all times, does it? Because I don´t!_"

Peggy Schneider seemed to be very passionate about that subject, so that she did not let the matter drop.

"What does it take for a girl to convince your _neanderthalian_ minds?"

"_Neanderthalian?"_ Hans was laughing wholeheartedly. "That is a new one, love, even for you!"

"Another war, so that we can recover our coastline," the Captain replied rapidly. "Honestly, I don´t believe anyone with a sane mind would stop to consider that."

"Paris…," Max mused, returning to the original topic. "I heard good old Rachmaninoff will be playing there next month."

"Is that so?" Georg asked, his eyes widening with undisguised interest. Maria was able to relax a little bit. It seemed that finally, the spotlight had left her. She knew that he favored the Russian´s passionate music, with its dark undertones — and not without reason.

"Yes, Sasha Petry was telling me about it when I called Moscow this morning. If you are interested, I might use my connections to get you the best box in the house…"

"Mmmm," he scratched his jaw, pensively. "I might be," he smiled.

"I didn´t know you were planning to go to Paris, Georg!"

"As I said — I might," was his enigmatic reply to Gromi.

Maria began to feel that familiar twinge of pain. He was going to Paris, after all, but not with her. He would take his Baroness with him, to spend their honeymoon in the lap of luxury in the city of lights. If, by a remote chance, _she_ were the one he asked to go with him, it would be merely to close what she believed the aristocracy called a "_social contract_".

Baroness´s Eberfeld words only confirmed her suspicions, at least partially, and the pain became almost physical.

"Oh, Elsa is going to love that, Georg," the elderly woman exclaimed. "What woman on earth does not dream about a honeymoon in Paris! What a wonderful idea, Fräulein Maria! I will keep you in mind the next time we have a wedding in the family — I will certainly ring you for suggestions."

Precisely at that moment, they were all reminded of the exact extent of Baron Eberfeld´s hearing problem: "What did you say, my dear? What nonsense is that? _Georg is spending his honeymoon in Paris with Fräulein Maria?_"

There were all kinds of different reactions around the table, from nervous laughter, to scandalized faces, to blatant amusement. She had no clue about his reaction, only sensed him absolutely still in his seat.

"_God help me, I´m going to be ill,_" Maria realized, in panic.

_A/N: __(1) See "Treasures". (2) According to a brief online research on dinner etiquette. Also, in the German movie "Die Trapp Familie", Maria sits next to the Captain. The place opposite to him was occupied by the housekeeper, who happened to be a Baroness, and thus an aristocratic lady. (3) A chocolate hazelnut pudding usually served with a rich chocolate sauce and whipped cream._


	14. Chapter 14

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER ****13**

**OOO**

_**A/N: The gazebo scene - I hope you enjoy my version of it. It is a little different that the movie, but I kept most of the original dialogue. There is also a párt that I borrowed from **__**scenes that were cut from the original script. **_

_**Disclaimers and acknowledgements: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

**_I saw the sunset-colored sands,_**_**  
**_**_The Nile like flowing fire between,_**_**  
**_**_Where Rameses stares forth serene,_**_**  
**_**_And Ammon's heavy temple stands._****_I saw the rocks where long ago,_**_**  
**_**_Above the sea that cries and breaks,_**_**  
**_**_Bright Perseus with Medusa's snakes_**_**  
**_**_Set free the maiden white like snow._****_And many skies have covered me,_**_**  
**_**_And many winds have blown me forth,_**_**  
**_**_And I have loved the green bright north,_**_**  
**_**_And I have loved the cold sweet sea._****_But what to me are north and south,_**_**  
**_**_And what the lure of many lands,_**_**  
**_**_Since you have leaned to catch my hands_**_**  
**_**_And lay a kiss upon my mouth._****_Sara Teasdale _**

******************OOO**

**_"Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists... When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence."_****_Goncourt._**

Edmond de

******OOO**

_**Joyful**_

_**And sorrowful,**_

_**Thoughtful;**_

_**Longing**_

_**And anxious**_

_**In constant anguish;**_

_**Skyhigh rejoicing**_

_**despairing to death;**_

_**Happy alone**_

_**Is the soul that loves.**_

_**Freudvoll und Leidvoll (Joyful and Sorrowful) – words by Goethe, Music by Franz Schubert. Transl. by Richard Morris**__**.**_

**OOO**

"Congratulations, it looks like you have accomplished your mission. You finally have us where you wanted us," Georg von Trapp spoke softly, in a subdued, deadly tone he did not recall hearing himself uttering since his last dangerous mission during the war. The words were directed to Frances Whitehead, his navy blue eyes fixed steadily on her, shooting daggers, until she cowered and lowered her gaze. If Maria heard those words, she did not react to them. Her tension was palpable, he could sense it without touching, or looking at her.

If Gromi had any goal in mind when she orchestrated that dinner party, he would have to admit that she had achieved it. Not by her own efforts and quite by chance, with the help of an eighty year old Baron with bad hearing. If not for that, the meal would have ended without any further consequences, except those he was already prepared to deal with. For Maria, he could guess it was a million times worse than the night of the ball, when she fled him. He knew that shock was probably the only thing that was keeping her where she was, motionless and silent.

Damn them all!

A string of profanities crossed his mind, each one worse than the previous, all of them applied to his mother in law manipulative tactics. Maria would frown at him, as she usually did in the rare occasions when a curse escaped his lips. Still, not a sound, not a movement, came from her direction. He could almost swear she was not even breathing. It scared the hell out of him.

From the other end of the table, Gromi greeted him with a smug smile.

"_Yes_. _Enjoy your victory, for I assure you it will be fleeting_," he thought, returning her smile with a mock toast.

"I think the situation requires some urgent damage control," he said louder, in the same dangerous, warning tone. The words were meant not for Maria, but to his friend sitting close to him — a brave man who had served under his command and who would instantly be able to recognize the silent message he wished to convey.

"Consider it done," Herr Schneider replied curtly, then suddenly relaxed, turning to his wife. "Never joke with a sea captain, that is what I always tell everybody! At least not with Georg von Trapp!"

"I am not asking you to throw my mother-in-law overboard, Hans! Just to keep an eye on things for now on and make sure no one in this room is out of your sight. I am sure your wife will be tremendously helpful." He glanced towards Peggy Schneider, who looked at Maria worriedly.

"Leave that to us. Do not worry – do what you must and try not to mess things up this time, Georg."

"No, I am not worried. Not at all."

Hans sneered. "_Madam_ Whitehead will not be looking so smug like that next month when you take your Baroness to Paris and she will have to look after seven children!"

"_Hans!_" Peggy slapped her husband's shoulder, not too gently.

Georg sucked in his breath when he heard Hans´s untimely attempt to bring some humor in the situation. On the other hand, maybe it was good that he uttered his mild joke, because Maria finally reacted to _something_. She flinched, and the sound she produced was akin to one of pain. There was nothing that would stop him from looking at her now. She seemed frozen in place, deadly pale, staring at her hands clutched against her stomach.

Dr. Thürmann was the first one to speak of his concern.

"Fräulein, are you well?"

"Oooohhh, I don't know," she whispered, smiling weakly.

He was beyond caring what people thought at this point. Impulsively, he took one of her hands. It was frighteningly cold.

"It´s all right, Maria. This must have been too much for you. I know it was for me," he let out a nervous chuckle, but became instantly serious when he noted that her distress only increased and the faint smile disappeared from her face. She pulled her hand away. "All you need is some fresh air. Go outside and take a few deep breaths. It will help."

"The Captain is right, Fräulein," Dr. Thürmann aided him. "I am sure you'll feel better afterwards."

Living up to his unparalleled social skills, Georg chose that precise moment to put an end to the meal, so that Maria was spared the humiliation of having to rise from the table alone. He knew what he had to do now — to go through the social formalities such a gathering demanded as quickly and effectively as possible without giving cause for further gossip or scandal, so that he could join Maria and put an end to their misery.

"Go," he repeated lovingly, as the other ladies began to rise. With the corner of his eye, he saw Hans, firmly holding Peggy´s arms, so that she would not follow Maria. He also noticed that Liesl, looking just as concerned, was tempted to do the same. All it took was a cautionary glance from him for her to stop and nod her acquiescence.

"But the guests…" Maria muttered.

"I'll handle the guests. Just go…" and he had to bite his tongue to keep the next world from escaping: "…_darling._"

oooooo

The garden looked particularly beautiful that evening. It was impossible for Maria not to be affected by that beauty, even in her distressed state. Rather, it was the calming tranquility that helped to soothe her troubled mind, until she was able to feel more or less like herself again.

In spite of the height of the summer heat, there was a soft, cooling breeze blowing. The skies were clear and starry, the moon was full. It gave the garden a bluish tint, which suited her state of mind perfectly. She wandered aimlessly through the trees — for how long, she didn´t know. It seemed she walked for hours like that, vigorously at first, then slowing her pace as she felt calm again. It was not until her feet started to hurt that she decided to sit down for a rest.

"_He told you to breathe. Do that. Breathe. Don't think. Do as he said. Just breathe_," she kept telling herself.

She did not want to think of the incident that ended the meal. She could not bear it now. What she needed to focus on was on the fact that he had asked her to trust him and she had made up her mind to do so, no matter how tourturous it would be. He was the most honorable man she had ever met, the most caring, the most attractive, the most handsome, the most… _everything_.

Oh, it was so difficult to keep a reasonable control on her emotions until she had all her answers. Unlike him, she had not been trained from the cradle to hide her thoughts and feelings whenever it was convenient. She was so drained and exhausted. Her mind was tired of trying to draw possible paths she would be following tomorrow. It was painful even to think about it, because every road she considered seemed to lead her everywhere except towards happiness. The one way that would lead her where she wanted was so impossible, so far away from her reach that she did not dare to consider it, except in those moments when there was that tiniest flicker of hope… like when he gently rescued her from that terribly embarrassing situation. The worst was that everything seemed to change every five minutes, and she would go from hope to despair in the blink of an eye.

_It hurt!_

It hurt now, as she strolled in the moonlight, knowing that he was inside, still entertaining his guests in the house, answering questions about an upcoming trip to Paris with his Baroness, and finally, most probably, satisfying their curiosity about the woman he would marry and her untimely departure for Vienna.

She only wished she was half as fortunate as he was. If she had so many paths open to her, he had one and one only one, which would lead to happiness, to a better life for his children, next to the perfect wife and mother. If she had not yet found the life she was made to live, as the Reverend Mother called it, his was there, just waiting for him.

It was not fair!

Not fair at all, since _he_ was the one responsible for her misery. Every cell in her body was screaming for her to run upstairs, pack and leave, exactly like she had done the last time, but she held her ground firmly. He would believe her a coward, a weakling. She would not, could not allow that to happen. If she had to leave that house, it could be with her head held high, with her pride intact, even if she was broken inside. However, before that happened, _she had to know_! She had to hear everything from him, the truth, whatever it was. She needed all her questions answered before she decided what to do.

"_Trust him!_" insisted the voice of her consciousness. "_Trust the man he was, the man he is. You may be wrong about so many things, but not about that. It will make your burden easier to bear afterwards…"_

She reached the glass-walled gazebo.

It had always been her favorite place, ever since she arrived at the Trapp villa, the place where she used to run to, whenever she needed some time for herself. It was closer than the mountains and her new safe haven. The mountains, although her first love and the only place where she could go to truly forget her worries, were too far with seven children under her care. Lately, the gazebo was where she went when she would wake up to his music in the middle of the night — when she was tempted to join him, as he had once said she could if she so wished. It gave her a sense of security, of closeness and yet she could be at one with nature thanks to the glass walls.

"_This may be my last time here,"_ Maria thought, forlornly, as she sat on one end of a stone bench. Placing her elbows on her knees, she leaned forward, her fingers knitted together. Staring downwards, she frowned deeply, noticing the sad state of her brand new shoes. It was enough to distract her for a moment.

"_If you are planning to walk, wear sensible shoes,"_ she censored herself, trying to bring her mind back to more practical matters in order to make the agony of _waiting_ a little easier to bear. Ironically, she'd never had that kind of problem before; all she had at the Abbey were sensible shoes and…

"Hallo!"

His presence there was not at all unexpected, but still his voice startled her. She sat up straight, looked up to her right, and saw him there, a few feet away, standing by a tree, looking almost too handsome to be real, in his dark grey suit. Once she saw him, she was trapped, and could not look away. Her heart began to pound madly.

"_It is time…" _

Georg von Trapp was practically running towards the place where he knew he would find Maria. When he saw her from a distance, sitting in a bench not far from the gazebo, he felt immensely relieved. Immediately, he slowed his pace, taking every care not to startle her.

The last half an hour of Gromi´s dinner party was the longest, most excruciating of his life. He had been dangerously close to shunning all the guests from his house while he went through the usual exchanged pleasantries before they started to leave. He usually enjoyed discussing politics with highly intelligent people, savoring a good Port, but tonight he saw nothing but Maria in her blue dress before him.

Now, she was here, although she had yet to realize his presence, so immersed she was in her own thoughts. He felt almost sorry he had to disturb her. She looked so ethereal, almost peaceful, under the bluish light of the moon. There was some color back to her face, and for that reason alone, his heart felt lighter. If not for the frown marring her brow, if not for the troublesome thoughts that he knew plagued her, he would walk away and leave her in peace.

In a word that was disappearing, crumbling before the advance of foreign armies and ideas, she was the only thing that was solid.

While he watched her in silence, every single moment he spent with her flashed in his mind, like a motion picture.

It began with the first mad day she had spent in his house, when he found himself with a desire so strong that he was not able to understand it… (1) Naively, he had believed that the feelings would be gone after two weeks with Elsa in Vienna, but his need for her only intensified with every passing day. He had fought these feelings with every bit of strength that he had, not caring how much he hurt her in the process, only to be overcome with a terrible sense of guilt whenever he realized that he had done just that. Then there was the moment when he realized she was gone (2) after Elsa's ball, which marked the beginning of the worst two weeks of his life. His days had been spent pretending to his children and to Elsa that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on; his nights had been plagued with terrible nightmares about Maria not reaching the Abbey safely.

Finally, there was the very moment when he realized that he loved her. In spite of the revealing conversation with the Reverend Mother, he still refused to acknowledge it. It was not until he saw her, in another dowdy dress that the poor did not want, surrounding by his children, looking up at him with unashamed love shining in her eyes, only to shatter before his eyes when Brigitta announced their engagement. Only at that moment he knew.

_Incompleteness in absence…_

He remembered reading that definition of love when he read the words of a French writer in his youth. One day, when he returned to Agathe after having spent months at sea, he had quoted those words to her in the aftermath of their lovemaking. His ever so practical wife had laughed, calling him a hopeless romantic. In the end, he had agreed with her and they shared a good laugh about it. Now, oddly enough, he realized that it was the one thing shared between his two relationships with the two very different women he had loved — he had acknowledged his feelings at the moment he realized that he was not whole without them. He could be well, he could function just perfectly, he could be brilliant in whatever he was doing, he could even manage to be reasonably content. But he would never be complete.

Now, however, he had to be practical, before anything else. No, he would not let another hour pass before he spoke to Maria. For the first time in his life, he had gone too far in his carefully laid plans. Life had finally taught him, through Maria, that in love sometimes caution and plans did not work. It had cost both of them four days of needless suffering. It was time to put an end to it, to make everything right again.

"I thought I just might find you here."

His tone was playful as he pointed a finger to her, a startling contrast with the way he spoke to her in the early days after they met. It was the same phrase he had used at least twice before in this same place, in the peaceful days when there was a silent truce declared between them. Just like this – late on a summer night, both of them eager for some cool air and each other´s company.

Half of him expected her to jump from the bench when she heard him, but she did not. She got up slowly, clutching her hands to her stomach.

"I was just taking your advice… and Dr. Thürmann´s. Was… was there something you wanted?" she asked, uncertainly. Again, it was something that she usually asked him when he found her alone somewhere in the house.

"_You know what I want, Maria,_" he wanted to say, but refrained himself just in time. "_She is merely reading you,_" he concluded. "_She does not know yet what to think, what to expect…_"

"Mm? No, no, no, no. Sit down, please." But she remained there, motionless, staring at him, wide eyed. He had to insist. "Please!" and gestured to the bench. She sat down, daintily, at its end.

"Uh, may I?" he asked, politely.

She nodded and he sat on the opposite end, his legs to the other side from hers. She seemed unable to tear her gaze away from him, until he smiled at her. Quickly, she lowered her eyes, gripping the edge of the bench tightly with both hands.

"It is a beautiful evening."

"Yes, it is," she said distractedly. "Has everybody left already?"

"Yes… except for my mother-in-law, of course. She´ll be on the early train to Innsbruck tomorrow morning."

"I am sorry I wasn´t there to say goodbye. Oh, what must they think of me…"

"Don´t trouble yourself, they understood what happened. I took care of everything."

"Of course you did," she said, and he thought he had detected a slight hint of irony. She moved a little bit away from him, sliding towards the edge of the bench.

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Ooh, I'm all right," she shrugged. "It was nothing, just the heat and too much wine, and um, _complicated_ food." He smiled at her choice of words. "I´m afraid I am just not used to it. I will be just fine," she said, moving another inch away from him.

"Careful, if you move farther away, you'll fall off the bench," he teased, chuckling.

"I'm not doing that!" she protested.

"Oh yes, you are. You always do, but you must believe, once and for all, that you are safe. So please stop looking at me like I am about to cause you unbearable pain and suffering."

"Are you?" She was holding her breath, bracing herself, waiting for him to answer. "Are you going to cause me unbearable pain and suffering?"

"No," he replied simply. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Honestly, after the past few days, I don´t know what to think anymore." She took a deep breath, for courage. Well, at least she stopped moving away from him. "You… you said earlier today that we must have a talk, didn't you? Very well, I think I am brave enough for this. I am listening."

He scratched his ear — an old habit, in his rare moments of confusion. Awestruck, he realized he was at a loss for words. There he was, in a crucial moment of his life, and he could do hardly more than chat about how beautiful the evening was.

"_How the devil did this happen?_"

It certainly had never happened with his first wife. No, with Agathe he had _always_ known what to say, what to do. "_I love you, will you marry me?" —_ that was simply how it was. No preambles. One sentence, no more than a few words, and it was done. It had been as easy to love her as it had been hard to lose her. He had accepted his feelings as soon as he realized them, and when he did, he acted immediately. With Maria, it all had been entirely different, from the beginning.

"The truth is that, for once in my life," he admitted. "I have no idea where to begin. It is, uh, _unsettling_. It was not quite like this before."

She frowned at him. Mentally, he kicked himself for his minor slip of tongue. It was hardly the proper time to bring the subject of his previous marriage.

"You do seem at a loss for words all of a sudden, Captain." To his surprise, she let out a low laugh.

"The same applies to you, of course," he retorted.

"Sister Berthe always said that one day I would find myself in _real_ trouble, so much that I would not be able to '_talk my way out of it'._" She smiled at the memory.

"Oh yes, Sister Berthe, that veritable pillar of wisdom," he chuckled. "What makes you think you are in trouble now?"

"I don't know, you must tell me. Am I?" she asked, unsure.

He laughed, and shook his head.

"I think it would depend on your definition of '_trouble_'. Yet, whatever that is, if you are, then so am I! So, please, go ahead, talk us _both_ out of this one!"

"I cannot. You see, in order for me to do that, at least one of us must know exactly what is going on, don´t you think? And I just don´t…"

"Let me see if I can drag us both out of this absurd vicious circle. And I think I know just how to begin." He searched very carefully for his next words, looking heavenward for a moment. "It begins with the only unanswered question I have in mind ever since you left so abruptly the night of the party."

He silenced.

"Very well, just ask me," she said, clasping her hands.

"You know, I was thinking and I was wondering… two things. Why did you run away to the Abbey? And what was it that made you come back?" He stressed each word of his question with a gesture, as if he were explaining some kind of military tactic.

Oh yes. He knew it was her most feared question, the one she was stubbornly refusing to answer for the past four days. It was evident that she did not like to hear it again. She bit on her lower lip and looked down, making a sad attempt to avoid the answer one last time.

"And I was wondering…" Maria countered.

"Yes?" Georg raised an eyebrow and gazed at her intently.

"I was wondering what has the power to do that to you. It is just a ridiculous harmless question and you act like your life depends on it."

"Not only my life – _our lives. _As for what has been plaguing me, it is not a _what_ but a _whom_.And by that I mean you!" He exclaimed, before he could stop himself. She merely looked at him, shaking her head in denial. "Finally, if my question is so ridiculously harmless, as you said, why don´t you just answer it?"

She still tried to dance around the subject.

"Why me? What kind of power do I have over you?" Her voice dropped low, at least two octaves. "There were times when you looked at me like you wished I did not exist!"

"I forgot how incredibly perceptive you could be when you applied yourself to it," he grimaced. "But that was a long time ago, long before…"

"Before?"

"Yes. _Before._"

"Before what?" she asked defiantly, holding his gaze without flinching this time. "If you had the right to demand answers to questions that are difficult for me to answer, I can very well do the same to you, can I?"

She was a handful, his bride, but would not have her in any other way. He was not expecting that things would be easy with her. Like him, she would resist, she would have her little demons to fight, there were fears she was hardly aware of that would have to be conquered.

"I asked you first," he challenged with a little smirk.

"You sound like Louisa," she accused, frowning at him.

"_Answer me_." He wanted to sound stern and tender at the same time, but he had no idea if he had accomplished his goal. Probably not, because she still resisted.

"You asked me two questions, not one, Captain."

"That´s entirely irrelevant, _Fräulein_, I…." He nearly bit his tongue, because he never intended to call her that again.

"They are terribly hard for me to answer."

"I never said that the way out of this mess would be easy. But it has to be done, since we are both up to our necks in this mess, darling."

Did he just call her "_darling"_? Yes he did, and she noticed it. She blinked a few times, as if to convince herself that she had heard him correctly, undoubtedly because he had slipped back to the old _Fräulein_ treatment again only a second before.

"I – I don´t know the answer." She was looking away from him again.

"O-ho, I think you do." His voice softened. "You have to tell me."

"Why? Why do I have to tell you?" she asked, a bit angrily, shifting uncomfortably. "Is that so important to you? It _is_ all settled, isn't it? I am sure the Reverend Mother will help you find a new governess if you only talk to her. And I will leave as soon as that is all arranged, and not before, I have already given you my word on that. I am not leaving before making sure the children will be taken care of, unless you send me away first. Is that why you are here? Because if it is, I can understand…"

"Just — _answer the question_. Please," he interrupted her gently. "I give you my word it will be the last time I ask such a thing of you tonight."

She thought for a moment.

"Well, I had an obligation to fulfill and I came back to fulfill it."

Oh, he could almost read her thoughts, hear her complimenting herself on her brilliant answer. It was written all over her expressive face. Obligations, duties — words by which he had lived his entire life, something that she knew only too well. She was clever, his future bride and she would never cease to amaze him because she had to know that, no matter how much life had taught him in the past couple of years, he would not be able to argue against such arguments. At the same time, the wary look in her eyes told her that she also knew that he would never be completely convinced by her answer.

"Mmm," he frowned. "Is that all?" he insisted. "That can't be all," he added more firmly.

She looked up — her moment of hesitation was brief, but discernible. "I missed the children."

"Yes. Uh, uh. O_nly_ the children?" he provoked.

"No!" He could not help but smile. She had answered him before she could even think of what she was saying, of how much she was revealing. But she realized it soon enough and hand flew to her heart — he could almost sense it fluttering.

"Yes! Isn't it right I should have missed them?" She looked at him frowning, almost angrily, almost daring him to contradict her, as she tried to correct herself.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course!" he tried to soothe her, pretending, for a moment, he had not realized that she had betrayed herself. "I was, uh, only hoping that perhaps you… perhaps you might, um…"

Yes?" She straightened, leaning towards him only slightly, looking at him hopefully, her beautifully expressive eyes impossibly wide.

"Well, nothing was the same when you were away and it'll be wrong again after you leave. And I just thought perhaps you might, uh… change your mind?"

"Change my mind?"

His voice dropped to a quiet whisper. He searched her eyes as he spoke his litany. "Yes. Stay with me. Forever."

"_Stay with _me_…."_

Maria studied his face carefully, his eyes unbelievably blue under the moonlight. He was doing it again — rendering her speechless, throwing her into a mad state of confusion once more.

"I… I cannot do that," she said, looking away from him. "I cannot stay."

He seemed taken aback by her answer, almost _hurt. _Could she have been wrong after all? She tried not to be moved by his stance. There was no logical reason for her to believe that he was doing this for her only, because he wanted _her_ to stay, regardless of anything or anyone else. His motives could be highly noble — for the sake of the children — or utterly despicable — because he wanted her in his bed. Neither would bring the happiness she craved, on the contrary. Only _unbearably pain and suffering,_ as he had described moments earlier.

"I - must - leave!"

Her voice was firm again, she was emphatic. But she was trembling and her whole body betrayed her words. _This_ was the moment when she should put an end to their conversation, she should get up and run, but she did not move. Her hands continued to grip the stone bench for dear life. He was getting close, much too close to the truth – at least her part of the truth – and he was not yet offering her anything in return.

He shuffled closer to her.

"Maria," he whispered. "I don´t want you to leave and you don´t really want to go. Do you?"

Bewildered, she shook her head, wordlessly giving him the truth. Unable to bear his gaze any longer, she rose and walked away, towards the gazebo, seeking some safety in distance, seeking security in transparent walls.

"Then _stay_!"

The intensity in his voice made her turn around for a moment to look at him. He was smiling to her again, and it was becoming so impossibly hard to resist! But she must, for the sake of her own conscience, her own peace of mind.

She took another deep breath.

"What I want hardly matters now, what I feel… or what you feel. I can´t," she said when she felt she was in control again. "I know you worry about the damage it would do to the children… their future," she paused briefly to swallow another large lump in her throat.

"This is _not_ about the children," he rasped.

"I know, but… there are consequences that will have to be faced, aren´t there?" She did not wait for him to answer. "Ooohhh, you know I cannot stay," she said, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes. "The longer I remain under your roof, the worse it will be. The longer I stay the more people will talk. If I go, soon we will be able to forget all about this mess and… I will forget about you and you will forget all about me!"

"Forget _you_?"

Apparently she had hit a nerve because his reaction could only be described as violent. Her gaze dropped to his hands, as he quickly cut the distance between with long, easy strides. She could see his fists clenched, as if he were exerting an iron control over his will not to….

"…_not to what? Take you in his arms? Oh, do stop imagining things, Maria. If he wants to touch you it is not because he…"_

"No, no, no, no, no," his passionate admission interrupted her thoughts. He began pacing around her just as he had done the first day they had met, his fists tightly clenched behind his back.

"I will not forget. _You _will not forget. I know only too well how this works. I´ve been there before; you haven´t. And I have no wish to go through that hell on earth again, least of all to make _you_ suffer it, so let me tell _you_ how it is."

"I _know_ how it is," she said loudly. "I have seen you go through it once. But it is not the same thing. It is not as if you are…"

"The hell it isn´t!" he shouted and she jumped. He let out a low curse, followed by a quick apology, before continuing.

"There will be memories everywhere you look, everywhere you go, you´ll find them where you least expect, even in places where there should be none at all," he paused, closing his eyes for a moment. "Because one day you will look at the ocean and you will remember simply because I could never show it to you. And it will hurt, more than you imagine possible. So don´t just… _stand_ there and try to convince me of how _easily_ you and I can forget. Because I know you can´t. You won't."

She stopped where she was, unable to formulate another single coherent thought. This time it wasn´t just merely another glimmer of hope; this time, it was much more than a glimmer, it was more like a torch burning brightly, like the stars in the clear sky above.

She swallowed again and noted that the truth was getting harder and harder to hold back. He knew that she loved him, that she would never forget him. He knew that being apart from him would probably destroy her, just as he had been torn apart when he had lost his first love. But what about him, what about his feelings for her?

"Fine. You… I may never be able to forget, but the hurt will go away one day, just like yours did when she died." She tried to smile up at him. "We spoke about this once before, remember? I will be all right, and you… You have someonenow,you have your Baroness.I'm sure she will be able to make things _fine_ for you."

She couldn't face him again, not with her emotions so close to spilling over. She leaned on the doorway for support when she heard his whisper…

"Maria…" She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. "There is not going to be any Baroness."

"_This can't be happening to me," _she thought, turning to him with a questioning look in her eyes, only to see his solemn face looking back at her.

"_There is not going to be any Baroness_," he repeated, stressing each word. "I thought that somehow I had made that clear to you in the past few days."

_There is not going to be any Baroness._

Maria tried to make sense of the words, but her thoughts scattered in every direction except the one she knew she had to take.

"There isn´t?"

He walked past her into the gazebo.

"No," he answered simply.

"I don't understand," she scratched her head. "Herr Schneider said you would ask Gromi to look after the children while you took your Baroness to Paris next month."

"Not _that_ Baroness. _Another_ Baroness," he smiled mischievously.

"Ooohhh? _Another?_"

"Yes. Well, Elsa and I… We've, uh, called off our engagement."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said impulsively, simply because it was what people usually said in those circumstances. She still wasn´t able to think straight.

"Yes… _You are_?"

He sounded absolutely incredulous. Naturally, he had every reason to be aghast. Only before dinner they had an argument about that subject, when she came close to telling him that he should marry the Baroness right away, and now she said she was sorry. He turned to her, looking into her eyes for the truth.

"Mm mm. You did?" She sighed. "I _am_ sorry," she repeated. "I still think you are mad; I still think you are wrong…"

"And I think you are lying through your teeth! I just told you — I am a free man."

"_So what?"_ she wanted to ask. A free man, but a nobleman nonetheless. A decorated war hero, bound with duties to his country, to his family, to society. She was just a girl from nowhere, born in a broken family. Men like him just did not have honorable intentions towards girls like her, not in that day and age.

"You _are_ mad," she exclaimed.

"Quite the contrary, I think I have never been as serious or sane about anything else — not for quite some time."

He was close, so very close now, as he circled her. His arm brushed against the sleeves of her dress. She looked up at him.

"Why did you?"

"Well, you can't marry someone when… you're in love with someone else…"

She looked up at him in shock. He was facing her now, so close that she could feel the heat of his body, his masculine scent. His eyes were the purest blue fire under the moonlight and they were all she could see.

And he was in love with her. He loved her.

"Can you?" he asked, intrigued by her silence, so softly that she barely heard him. Maria shook her head, in awe or denial, or both, she did not know. It was all the answer he needed.

He cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her gently toward him, with such care and restraint that the simple memory of that moment would be enough to bring tears to her eyes for the rest of her life. He came so close that her vision blurred and she closed her eyes. The glass walls surrounding them disappeared, as she fully accepted the only shelter she had ever wanted, had ever needed.

At first he merely brushed her lips with his, allowing her time to get used to the wondrous feeling. When he heard the low whimper in the back of her throat, he began to kiss her tenderly, pouring his heart and soul into that simple, most basic of all intimate acts between two lovers. Maria let her head fall on his shoulder, inhaling his scent. She dug her fingernails in his forearms when she heard his own guttural sigh of pleasure. He grazed his lips all over her face, kissed her eyelids, her cheek, the tip of her nose, the side of her sensitive neck. Her knees felt weak, and instinctively his arms instantly tightened against her and he brushed her lips with his again.

The poignancy of it was almost too keen to bear — it was heaven, it was perfection. It was also, as she was soon going to learn, unbearably erotic. She would always remember it in the future as the most innocent and yet, paradoxically, the most carnal experience of her life. It was almost dreamlike because her life until that day had not prepared her for something so sensual. Such bliss could not belong to reality.

Maria sighed contently against his chest. As his arms gave her a tighter embrace, she closed her eyes. She could hear his heart beating — fast, but strong and solid… Yes, this was real. Slowly, she allowed reality to intrude again. She felt the ground beneath her feet, she felt the wind gently ruffling the skirts of her dress. Beyond his breathing and the solid thud of his heart, she heard the sounds of the night surrounding them.

She had to say something, she just _had_ to. If she did not, she felt she would again just melt into his arms, she would forget who she was. Somehow she knew that the day would come when she would wish to do just that, but it was all still too new. There was still much to be explained much to be understood before she surrendered to that wonderful new world he was showing her.

"The Reverend Mother always says, '_When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window'_," she burst out her first coherent thought.

He smiled, and although she could not see it, she felt it, she heard it in his voice. "_Only you, my darling, to bring up the Reverend Mother in a moment like that,_" he would tease her weeks later.

"What else does the Reverend Mother say?" he asked, urging her to look at him again.

"That you have to look for your life… for the life you were born to live."

"There is only one problem with that."

"There is?"

"Sometimes, it is so elusive that when you find it, you don't recognize it for what it is," he touched the tip of her nose, smiling tenderly. "Not at first."

"No," she agreed, unable to stop the flow of words that followed, "…and it tears you apart and you fight it. You don't know what to think, what to say, what to do…"

"… then suddenly one day, there it is, before you. It hits you with such force that it robs you of your breathing."

"… and you realize it isn't something you just imagined!"

"O-ho, but you know, deep inside you know what it is."

She looked at him wonderingly, because he was describing the turmoil of feelings she had been through in the past few days with amazing precision.

"Was it like that with you too?" She was frowning at him now, wondering how he possibly could _not_ have known because he had loved before and she never had.

"Oh yes, it was." He cupped her face, kissing her frown away. His face became dead serious when he repeated the fatal question, before she could ask him anything else.

"Is that why you came back?" She simply nodded her answer. "And have you found it, Maria? Have you found the life you were born to live?"

She smiled up at him, the tears making her blink. "I think I have. I know I have."

It did not happen like in the novels she had read. Georg von Trapp did not say a poem, or delivered a long monologue praising all her charms. He did not kneel on the floor and take her hand, nor, like in a Valentino movie, did he take her in a crushing embrace. He did not have to fight a duel or accomplish a feat only to prove his feelings. No flowers or precious gifts were needed. Had he said or done any of those things, she might even come do doubt his feelings and ask him for reassurance from time to time, but the way it happened, she never would, for as long as she lived.

He did not shout the words, he did not need that. He just said them, with heart stopping seriousness.

"_I love you."_

Maria would tell her husband, years later, that if she never heard those words from him again, it would hardly matter, because the intensity of it when he said them for the first time had been enough to last for eternity. His face, his voice, his whole stance told her he was serious; that he meant every single one of those three words, and that he did not doubt that they represented an absolute truth. And, because of her religious background, Maria was a believer of absolute truths, of things that could never be doubted or questioned. The fact that Captain Georg von Trapp loved her, and that she loved him became one of those truths, instantly.

This man did not want her only in his bed, as it had been viciously insinuated to her. This man, this proud, aristocratic man, this fine and brave sea captain as the Mother Abbess had described him the very first time Maria ever heard of him, this dangerously handsome devil who tempted her night and day just by being in the same room with her… This man loved _her_ — Maria, who knew too much about loss but nothing of love.

"_Oh, can this be happening to me?"_

_A/N: __(1) The 12__th__ Governess. (2) Austrian Folk Dances I – The Ländler. _


	15. Chapter 15

**NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING**

**CHAPTER 14**

**OOO**

_**A/N: This is it, the final chapter. But don´t worry, my version of TSOM will continue in another story one of these days. You have been wonderful readers and reviewers, and I thank you all for your support and your feedback. My friends from the forum - you know I could not have finished this without your inspiring suggestions - specially you, LTS! And E., thank you so much for helping me with this.**_

_**Have fun!**_

_**Disclaimers: See previous chapters.**_

**OOO**

_**Perhaps I had a wicked childhood**__**,**_

_**Perhaps I had a miserable youth**__**,**_

_**But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past**_

_**There must have been a moment of truth**_

_**For here you are, standing there, loving me**__**,**_

_**Whether or not you should**__**.**_

_**So somewhere in my youth or childhood**_

_**I must have done something good.**_

_**Nothing comes from nothing**__**,**_

_**Nothing ever could**__**,**_

_**So somewhere in my youth or childhood**_

_**I must have done something good**__**.**_

_**Rodgers and Hammerstein, **__**"The Sound of Music".**_

**OOO**

_**In your light I learn how to love.**__**  
**__**In your beauty, how to make poems.**__**  
**__**You dance inside my chest,**__**  
**__**where no one sees you,**__**  
**__**but sometimes I do,**__**  
**__**and that sight becomes this art.**____**Rumi**_

******OOO**

A sudden gush of wind suddenly hit the couple in the glass-walled gazebo. It ruffled the skirts of the woman's blue dress, so that they hugged the man's legs. To Georg, it felt like she too was part of that soft, summer breeze. Like the leaves in the trees surrounding them, she was shaking. Like the trees, he was trying to hold his ground, to support her so that she would not fly with the wind.

They both had gone from despair to bliss in the space of only a few days. They had fought, she had cried. He had struggled with the mistakes he had made, with his stubbornness to accept his feelings for her, and, later, for taking so long to speak to her, blaming not only the circumstances but himself as well. And if he, experienced as he was, was overwhelmed with the effects of such a wide range of strong emotions, he could only begin to imagine what Maria was feeling.

Her bewildered whisper only proved him right.

"_Oh, can this be happening to me__?" _

He doubted she realized she had spoken the words aloud. There was a tear running down her left cheek but he was sure she had not realized that either, not even when he kissed it away. She looked up at him again. At first he thought she was going to kiss him back, but at the last minute, she dropped her head to his chest, inhaling deeply. Her pliant body shook as she melted against him. He realized he was supporting almost her full weight.

All she needed was a little time to let his words sink in. He gave it to her, holding her close, his hands drawing slow circles on her back.

As hard as he tried, he could not understand how the ethereal creature in his arms was never actually _loved_ by anyone, in any way: not by a parent or a sibling, least of all by a man. As far as he knew, her own family had rejected her after the loss of her parents, and the only real affection she had known was from a group of elderly nuns in a convent, who were probably relieved to see her go because, quite frankly, her rebellious ways made her a thorn on their side. Yet, she had survived. She did not become a resentful, bitter, abusive religious fanatic, but into an enchanting, alluring, adorable, utterly irresistible young woman. How and why, he had no idea, but he was surely going to try to discover one day. He longed to know everything about her, everything that made her who she was, although, somehow, he knew Maria would always remain a fascinating mystery to him.

Right now, for instance: what was she thinking? _Why_ could she not believe what was happening to her? Did she still doubt him? Or was she merely too overwhelmed to say anything, or even to think?

"Maria…" He murmured against her temple, at last.

"Mmmm?"

"Say something, please. Speak to me, darling."

Apparently, his enchanting new bride was not in the mood for talking, at least not just yet. She raised her head from his chest, but she did not say a word. Instead, she stared at his mouth, biting on her lower lip nervously. Just as when he was about to ask what was on her mind, she stood on her tiptoes and touched her lips to the scar in his chin, just below his lower lip. He held his breath. Feeling braver, Maria brought her lips just a fraction of an inch higher, brushing his lower lip with hers.

It was probably the most innocent kiss he had ever received in his life, but his body responded to her fleeting caress in a manner that was most definitely far from innocent. The husky sound that escaped his lips was involuntary, not atypical of a man in the early stages of sexual arousal. The reaction, however, was misinterpreted by Maria, who naturally would not yet be able to recognize such signs.

"I´m sorry, I don´t know how to..." She let out a low, nervous laugh, her mouth still brushing his, smiling against his lips.

He drew back to look at her, expecting that she would pull away too, but she did not. She was only looking at him now, very silent and very serious.

"…to?" he insisted lovingly, whispering against her ear, bringing her close to him again.

"I have never…" She shook her head, in utter confusion. He kissed her forehead. "This is my first… _everything_! Oooohhh, I never knew…"

She met his gaze. He smiled.

Unable to resist the sight of that slender neck, he lowered his head to taste her satin skin once more. Now that he finally had her, he just could not get enough of her – he wondered if he ever would. In fact, he was already thinking about the methods he would have to use do in order to keep his hormones under control in the next few weeks.

He had always believed that the traditional institution of chaperoning was nothing but an utter nuisance. During his first engagement, he did not recall being left alone for five minutes with his bride, which had been more than enough to turn Agathe into a nervous wreck on their wedding night. When he began courting Elsa, the prospect of having a chaperon seemed absurdly ridiculous — after all, they were both adults, both widowed and there was most definitely not an issue of virginity left to protect. That was the reason he had asked Max Detweiler to play that role, "_pro forma,_" just in order to keep the tongues from flapping. He knew that Max would never take it seriously, and would gladly look the other way if he had to. With Maria, for the first time he was close to viewing a chaperon as a necessity — that is, if he wished not to harm her reputation even more. He simply was not sure how long he would be able to resist temptation if they were left alone for too long. More than that, considering the first kiss they had shared, he was not sure if _she_ would be able to resist it either.

He gazed at her for a long time. Lips parted, pupils dilated, flushed face, ragged breathing…

Yes, all the signs were there for her as well. There would be other signs too, in other parts of her body, hidden and intimate parts that were just beginning to become moist, aching and throbbing. He could not allow himself to think about those without running the risk of loosing control completely, but one look at Maria and he knew that they were already there. _She_ knew it too, at some instinctive level, because she was looking at him like if she had just discovered _fire_. Well, metaphorically speaking maybe she had. But what would she say if she knew that that kiss had been a novel experience for him as well? That until the moment when their lips touched, he was not quite how he would proceed, or how she would react to it?

As far as he knew, he had never before had the honor and the privilege of giving a woman her first kiss, not even the girl who had given him his. It was ridiculous to feel this way, but the fact that he'd given Maria her first kiss, her first step into sensuality, brought him a certain sense of… _exhilaration_ and pride. Agathe had had one or two boyfriends before him, something she would tease him about mercilessly from time to time, making him absurdly jealous when she mentioned the one who had been the first to win her affections. Although her virtue had never been compromised by her girlish infatuations, and what she had described as passionate kisses had been hardly more than little pecks on the lips, she'd exclaimed quite dramatically that he had married "_a woman with a past_".

"_You cannot be a "woman with a past", Agathe. You were not even a woman when we married, remember?"_ he'd retorted, quite smugly. To which she'd followed with a string of little insults, beginning with the classic "_chauvinistic pig_" and ending with words he would never expect to hear from his ever so prim and proper, impeccably ladylike wife.

The memory now made him smile.

"Does it _always_ feel like this?" Maria asked wonderingly.

"No," he rasped against her ear, his voice husky. "Never quite like this. This is just for the two of us."

"I never understood what was happening to me until the truth was thrust in my face." She quivered, her fingers dug into his upper arms, as if her knees had suddenly become too weak to support her. "One minute I wanted to yell at you and punch you, and the next…"

"And the next?" he teased her earlobe.

"I wanted you to… do _things_ to me, things that a nun is not supposed to think about. I wanted to do those things to you…." She swallowed. "Now I know…" she whispered breathlessly, looking up at him. His hands moving to cup her face with reverent care.

"What do you know?" He touched her lower lip with the tip of his fingers, watching it quiver.

"I know why I was told I should let you kiss me thoroughly and properly before I decided to take my vows!" In spite of the seriousness of the situation, they laughed.

"O-ho, I hate to be the one to tell you, darling but you have not been properly and thoroughly kissed — yet!"

"You mean that was not a proper and through kiss?" She tilted her head to one side.

"No — I must warn you to brace yourself now because I am more inclined to believe that _this_ is a proper kiss!"

Maria did not try to pull away — in an unmistakable gesture of trust, she held on to his shoulders and let him take them both on another maddening ride. Her lips parted sweetly under his and he could almost feel the shiver running down her spine. The kiss was not nearly as restrained as the first one. _Restraint _was not something they wanted or needed now. After the sheer agony of the past days, what they needed was the opposite; they needed _release._ Nevertheless, his barely functional rational mind reminded him to retain some measure of control, to go slowly, to tread carefully as he slowly explored her mouth, never taking more than she was prepared to give, never giving more than what he believed she was prepared to take.

He was indeed trying to be a patient teacher, as he guided her into each new level of intimacy as he deepened his kisses, but Maria was too good a pupil. It had been easy to maintain control at first, until she abandoned herself completely to him, causing things to move faster than he had intended to, rendering him unable to slow things down. It wasn´t until he heard the soft whimper on the back of her throat that he pulled away slightly.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Her head fell against his chest again, she was breathing heavily. His fingers found the soft skin on her neck, and he felt her body shudder, silently asking for more. But she did not wait for him to give it to her — a bit shyly, but completely unafraid, she went after what she wanted. Her lips traveled down his jaw, to his neck, mimicking his earlier caresses, her hands were in his back, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, as if she instinctively wanted to rip it off him. She was hesitant, almost clumsy in her caresses, but she was driving him to the brink of madness. If it was torture, it was the sweetest one he ever experienced.

There was a troubled look in her face when she looked up at him, a long time later.

"What happens now?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"Well, the next few weeks are going to be undoubtedly… frenzied! Our lives are never going to be the same, but I will make sure that you never regret or doubt that you found your path in life, Maria."

She was still very serious.

"There is one thing that I must know…" Maria stepped back, her palms against his chest.

"Yes?"

"_What do you want from me?_"

The question stunned him — he was rendered speechless for a moment.

"Do you love me — Maria?"

"Yes!" she nearly cried out her admission. "With all my heart, I really, _really_ do!"

"Then… why do you insist on believing that I would be willing to offer you less than what you want — or deserve?"

Taking a deep breath for courage, she spoke, her voice very clear, her honesty almost painful.

"You said only hours ago that if you wanted me in your bed, I would have been there already." She dropped her gaze, embarrassed.

"If I wanted you "_only_" in my bed," he corrected.

"You are a sea captain, I am a mountain girl. You are a Baron, I am a commoner," she recited, her eyes fixed in the knot of his tie. It was as if she had heard those statements from someone else, and had repeated the words over and over again in order to convince herself that they had some power to shape her life.

"Look at me, darling." A bit reluctant, she did as he asked. It was obvious that she was making a supreme effort to hold back tears. "My mother was a Baroness, but my father was not a nobleman and I wasn´t exactly born an aristocrat. They made me the _Ritter von Trapp_ because I sunk an enemy ship and that was all there was to it. I was never too attached to my title. To tell you the truth, there have been times in my life when it was nothing but a nuisance. Now, for instance."

"I know, but it doesn´t matter." She was shaking her head energetically. "You are what you are, you were born rich, you were educated for court, and you became a big naval hero and I… I don´t even know who my grandparents were!"

He touched her cheek and smiled.

"Did you know that sea is much more beautiful where it meets the mountains?"

She looked away again. "Oh please, don´t tease me like that!"

"You know in your heart that I have never been more serious." Stepping back, and took both of her hands in his, searching for her eyes. "What do you think I want, my love? To remain a widower forever or marry for convenience whenever it suits me, only to wait every night for the children to fall asleep and then sneak into your bed?" She flinched, but he did not stop. "To make love to you when we are alone only to treat you with cold indifference in front of everybody else? To hide you from the rest of the world as if you were unworthy of me or my family?"

Her face flamed, but she did not deny his words.

"If you are thinking of leaving again because…"

"I will not leave, no matter what happens," she interrupted. "I cannot bear the thought of living without you anymore…" Next, she began her candid admission, voice nearly faltering in the end. "_But_ I lived just long enough outside convent walls to know how certain things work. It is not always beautiful and perfect like in the books. If… if no one else must know… what we feel, I´ll understand… You only have to tell me."

He sucked in his breath. Was she actually willing to take whatever he offered her?

From the very first few days she had spent in his house, it had taken him an inhuman effort to resist the temptation she represented, and by that he did not mean taking regular cold showers or diving into the icy lake in the middle of the night. Yielding to it would not only disgrace her, but quite possibly the future of his children as well. The fact that she had admitted forthrightly she would not resist him, especially now that she knew that he loved her, hit him with the force of a tidal wave.

A lesser man would not think twice to take what she was offering him so trustingly, so openly. A man of his station who did not love her as much as he did might not even blink. He could think of quite a few of his closest friends who would jump at the chance without any qualms or regrets. Georg realized that he was standing at a crossroad in his life. No matter what his intentions towards Maria were, he could very well take her hand, and take her up to the master bedroom, using the back door and…

"That is one _very_ dangerous thing to say to a man," he caressed her cheek.

"Not to you," she protested immediately.

He considered her words for a second.

Taking her background into account, the way she had lived all her life, it was not hard for him to imagine how much this was costing her. For him, she was willing to break all the vows she had made in her life, she was willing to let go of everything she had been taught, right or wrong. She had given him her honesty, her trust, her _love_. Maria would never be willing to sacrifice so much if she did not love him with all her heart. The least he could do was to give her his complete honesty as well.

"I must confess that there have been times in the past few months when I would not have been so sure."

"_I know_ and I still do not love you any less because of it. I may have led a sheltered life, but that does not prevent me from… from sensing a few things."

"I think…"

"Yes?" she asked expectantly when he did nothing else but hold her burning gaze.

"I think that the best thing to do, the right thing to do, would be for you to take your vows after all…" Her eyes widened impossibly. Quickly, he added, before she even _considered_ panicking: "Vows of a different kind of course."

Maria went very, very still watching him, her liquid eyes now shining with a light he had never seen before.

"_Marry me,_" he said, solemnly, seriously.

Her hands flew to her flaming cheeks. Their eyes met and held, her eyes asking him if she heard him correctly.

Without waiting for her answer, he reached for something in the pocket of his jacket. She breathed another one of her lovely, indescribable sounds when she realized what it was: a ring.

His grandmother´s engagement ring.

His grandfather was a scholar, and Georg still remembered how much he loved to ramble about the symbolism of the stones he had chosen for the ring he had designed himself. It was kept in a safe deposit in a bank Vienna after the death of his grandparents. By the time of his first marriage, he thought about giving it to Agathe, but his mother had insisted that he should offer his bride a new ring, and not that "_quaint little trinket_", as she called it. For some mysterious reason, he only remembered the heirloom again when he started thinking about proposing to Elsa. While spending those days in Vienna with her, he paid a visit to the bank and fetched it. It was in a sorry state, since his grandmother had worn it from the day of her betrothal until the day she died. He took it to the best jeweler in the city; it was cleaned and polished so that its elegant simplicity was fully restored. Soon, however, it became evident that his former future fiancée would never value the ring as he did or as his grandparents once had, and it was, once again, forgotten in a locked drawer of his desk.

Until the day the he discovered that he loved Maria. He could travel all over the world and would never find anything more appropriate to give to his bride. Or more worthy of her:

_Male and female. A diamond, an ancient symbol of strength, __resilience and invincibility. Next to it, a pearl representing unblemished purity and harmony. _

"You _really _want to marry me," she said dreamingly. "Oh, _t__his can´t be happening to me,_" she repeated.

He decided not to push her or try to force her to give him an immediate answer. She would always need a little time to adjust to every change that was to come, even if only a minute or two. Yet, he had to acknowledge that, with Maria, things would move at a different pace. As soon as _he_ realized that he loved her, he knew he would be with her forever. For Maria, however, the realization of her love for him had brought with it the near certainty that a Baron would never marry a governess, even if he loved her back.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait very long. Just as he was about to repeat his proposal, in a more solemn, formal manner, asking her for the honor of becoming his wife, she burst out.

"Yes, I´ll be your wife. Oh God, yes!"

"_So, this is how it happens," _Maria thought.

Many times she had tried to imagine how it would feel, to be in his arms, long before she realized the veritable nature of her feelings for him. Sometimes she had succumbed to temptation and abandoned herself in wild dreams in the middle of the night, fantasies that were as daring and adventurous as her imagination allowed, only to wake up feeling terribly guilty the following morning. Once, she stopped only a few steps away from the confessionary, realizing she could not bear to share her secret with anyone, not even a priest, because she knew that whatever penance she was given would only make her feel more guilty.

Reality, however, was another thing entirely, and so far, it was surpassing all her wildest dreams, and she realized how sadly incomplete her fantasies were.

The feeling of his hands through the fine silk of her dress…

The feel of his cheek against hers, his stubble already growing there, teasing the very sensitive skin of her neck…

The strength of his hands on her arms, holding her as his mouth pressed to hers, his tongue tasting her lips, tentatively plunging just inside her mouth, just a fraction at a time…

The sounds of their heavy breathing, of their clothes brushing, the scent of him…

_E__verything! _

Burning — it was the first word she could think to describe all those sensations, because it was indeed somewhat painful. A kind of ache she never felt before, that made her desire to feel those same hands, those lips, not through her dress, but on her naked skin.

After that simple realization, it was like a dam breaking inside her, as the need to feel him closer and closer intensified. She felt that she would die if that _something_ she craved did not happen. Parts of her body she had hardly been aware of before suddenly became alive and tingling, warm and begging for his touch. When it all became too much for her to bear, she found her voice at last, although she could manage hardly more than a strangled moan._ Her voice,_ which had been the one thing that helped to bring them together, had been enough to push him away this time, because when he heard her whimper, he stopped.

No, she had never _ever_ imagined anything like that, anything like what had taken place after he had said "_I love you_"… Or that she would even hear those three words from _him_ in the first place.

It was her path, the life she was meant to live — she had found it, just as the Reverend Mother said she would. At the same time, she had been taught all her life that the love between a man and a woman was something sinful unless it was fully sanctioned by the Church. How could that be? Why did it seem so hard for her to believe that what she'd been taught was an absolute truth now? Something so earth shattering, so beautiful could not be also sinful, could it?

There were other things as well…

"_Oh dear Lord, what must he think of me,_" she started thinking, frantically. "_Does that mean I am some kind of… wanton?"_

A former postulant of Nonnberg Abbey kissing a man with such abandonment, clinging to him like ivy to a wall. Would he consider her behavior to be _unladylike_? She could not help but wonder if the first Baroness von Trapp, who had been undoubtedly a lady in every sense of the word, had behaved that way when he kissed her for the first time.

With the thought of his first wife, other worries entered her mind. She was not a Baroness, nor had she been brought up to be one. The next logical step for any other couple would be toward the altar. But she had read enough, heard enough in the past few weeks, to know that Georg would be delivering quite a blow to the society he lived in if he chose to marry someone like her. Even if he could deal with the consequences, it would affect the children´s lives as well. Would he be willing to risk so much? Before she gave herself completely, there was one thing she wanted to know, _needed_ to know.

In spite of that, the irrevocable fact remained that she loved him. He _loved_ her. Even if she was not meant to be his Baroness, she would have settled for everything, _anything_ he offered after he said he loved her. All the rest seemed irrelevant when compared to the enormity of her feelings — and his. Yes, in all certainty, there would be love in her life, she would never run from it again — the love of a man. But would it bring her happiness? That was her final, most troubling question.

"_What do you want from me?_" she had asked him when they had barely recovered from the last kiss.

And then, the unthinkable, the unimaginable had happened.

"_Marry me!_"

"_Yes!_" she had shouted her answer, so loud that now she was afraid that someone might have heard her in the house.

She was, at this moment, engaged to me married, and her betrothed was no other than Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp, the handsome naval hero that had Austria at his feet by the time the Great War ended.

The implications were enormous, her mind was racing without control because of them: there was going to be a wedding and _she_ would be the bride. _She_ would spend the rest of her life with that man, grow old with him, raise his children, and if it was God´s will, she would also bear him children. Her body and soul would be shared with him.

It was no wonder that she hardly felt the ground beneath her feet!

"Give me your hand," he commanded softly. Dazzled, she did what he asked, noticing that his hands were as shaky as hers were.

"This ring belonged to my grandmother," he explained, as he pushed the heirloom into the appropriate finger. His voice was soothing, as if he sensed her inner turmoil and was trying to find a way to calm her. "She was forever preaching to me that I should _always_ marry for love, no matter what happened. She made me swear I would; I very nearly broke my promise to her," he admitted distastefully, then paused. "I have been carrying it in my pocket since the day you returned from the Abbey."

She looked at the ring. It was a little too big for her, practically loose around her finger. She noticed a slight frown marring his brow, knowing instantly that he was censoring himself for not foreseeing that and making a mental note to solve the problem as soon as possible.

"I apologize for that, darling. Big hands seem to run in the Trapp family lineage," he grinned.

"I didn´t think it was possible," she whispered, still dazed. "Becoming your wife…"

He gifted her with one of his gorgeous half smiles.

"Do you know when I first started loving you?" he asked unexpectedly. "That night at the dinner table when you sat on that ridiculous pine cone." He laughed, and she joined him.

"Of course I would have saved us both a great deal of heartache if I had not been so dismally stubborn," he continued. "I denied it until the very end, until it was almost too late. What makes it worse was that I… _I knew it_ — I just refused to accept it for so many reasons I am ashamed of — pride being one of them. I doubted something like this could ever happen to me again. And so strongly! It wasn´t until I saw you coming back from the Abbey that I…" His voice caught as he continued his speech. "Realization came suddenly, that was like being hit by one of my own torpedoes! I loathed myself for what I did… what I did not do! I should have run after you the night of the party, as soon as I realized you were not coming down for dinner. I should have broken into that cloister and dragged you out of there when I went to speak to the Reverend Mother that day."

"Oh, I don´t think we would ever have the nun´s blessings if you did that!" she giggled. "No one from the secular world can enter the cloister, least of all a man."

"I know. The Mother Abbess in all her infinite wisdom did try to talk some sense into me that day, did you know that?"

"No, but it sounds like something she would do, because she tried same with me."

"Did it work?"

"Beautifully. I am here, am I not?"

"Besides, uh, doors and windows, what did she say to you:"

"That the love between a man and a woman is holy, and if I loved you I must go back and find out. What did she say to you?"

"O-ho, she was not nearly as diplomatic — or poetic. I am under the impression that she does not have a very high opinion of me at the moment." He chuckled.

"That is not true, and you know it. She thinks very highly of you, otherwise she would not have sent me back."

"Well, what matters is that I was very obstinate and unlike you I refused to listen to her advice. I was fuming because a cloistered nun had dared to interfere with my love life whenI never allowed anyone to do such a thing. I drove back home like a maniac, risking my life and thinking of nothing else but my anger and seeing nothing else but _you_ in front of me. When I arrived I continued behaving recklessly, it became even worse. I proposed to Elsa that evening, drank myself to oblivion after that and told the children the following morning, while nursing one of the most terrible hangover of my entire life!"

He was laughing, and although her eyes were shining with mirth, she was, once again, disturbingly quiet.

"Are you having second thoughts about marrying your sea captain, Maria?" he provoked.

"Of course not! How can I blame you when it took me too long to realize what was happening as well? I was just as blind as you were."

He shook his head. "I don´t think you could have realized it sooner that you did. You admitted it yourself, you never loved anyone before."

"I know. I never expected such a thing happening to me, so I never stopped to think about how it would _feel_." She bit her lower lip. "Isn´t it amazing how_ fast_ it happened? Three months ago I hardly knew you existed!"

"When were you, uh, _hit_?" he winked at her.

"I am not quite sure… but I know that _something_ most definitely hit me the first time you blew that silly whistle."

He touched her face. "Oh, my love."

She smiled against his caress.

"Would you like to go back inside?" he asked. "We must celebrate, of course. I asked the cook to leave a bottle of champagne in my study."

"Do we have to go back just now?" She hesitated. "I don´t want to go inside. Not just yet."

"Well, everyone else has probably retired to bed at this hour. I think it is rather safe to say that we can stay out here as long as we want to."

"Good."

Her life had changed entirely in the space of a few minutes, but it was obvious that things would simply become out of control once they walked back inside the house, hand in hand. No, she was not quite ready to face the rest of the world just yet. She wanted to hold on to those magical moments in the gazebo for just a little longer.

"I confess that am not ready to part from you so soon tonight either. Let us sit here for a moment."

He took her hand, and they sat in one of the benches inside the gazebo. They sat facing each other, their knees almost touching. He took both of her hands in his.

"You asked me earlier what was going to happen now. Let me begin to tell you."

"Oh please, do!"

"Once we go back to the house, all hell is going to break loose. I´m afraid time won´t belong to us anymore until we are married and alone in our honeymoon," he said, with a quick glance towards the house. "As ridiculously medieval as it may sound, we won´t be able to take two steps without being properly chaperoned," he added distastefully, rolling his eyes.

Noting the wistful look in his eyes, she asked, "Is it really going to be that terrible?"

"Oh, much worse, Fräulein, although I am sure that in the future when you look back you will realize that you loved every moment of it!" he teased.

"Will we need a chaperon, even when people seem to believe we have already…" she finished the sentence with an embarrassed little shrug.

"Yes — _especially_ because some people believe that we already have."

"Oooohh. Who exactly do you have in mind?" she asked.

"Who? _Everybody,_" he chuckled.

"Mmmm? _Everybody_?" She giggled. "I thought Herr Detweiler would suffice."

He let out a low laugh. "Hardly. Max alone won´t do. He is the lousiest chaperon you could possibly wish for. I´m afraid he never took his role very seriously."

Her jaw dropped, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"_Does that mean he and the Baroness… Nooooooo!" _Maria thought, slightly shocked and more than a bit jealous, but too much in a state of bliss happiness to feel angry at him or to let those feelings intrude upon her happiness.

"No, no, no! That was a poor choice of words, my darling, it´s _not_ what you are thinking!" he reacted immediately to her expressive face. "You must realize that things will be different with you, Maria. A chaperon will be much more than a necessary formality."

"I know — the dreadful gossip," she dropped her head to their joined hands.

"Yes, I am afraid that is one of the reasons. Trust me, I will do my best not to allow that to drive us crazy. I was joking just now — it could be much worse."

"Could it?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Oh yes! For instance, if we were going to follow every rule strictly, one of us would have to leave the house. Tonight, if possible."

"Whaaat?" she shrieked.

Her heart sank, she was incredulous. After having spent days living with the torturing possibility that she would have to leave, now that she believed that she knew they would be together, the same possibility was back to haunt her again!

"But… but I don´t want to leave!" she protested vehemently.

"And I don´t want _you_ to leave. I think I made myself quite clear about that. But once the betrothal becomes official, to spend another night under the same roof would be unthinkable. _Unless_…"

"Unless?"

"… unless we have this villa overflowing with guests — not only one or two chaperons, but a dozen of them. It was the only solution I found to our dilemma, without causing us any further distress."

"Mmmm? Were _you_ thinking about leaving?"

"I thought I could take the sailboat and spend the next weeks at sea. But then I realized I would be a selfish brute if I did that, because it would mean leaving you alone with the preparations for the wedding."

"Oh dear!"

"… not to mention the undeniable fact that I cannot part from you either!"

The words were dancing in her head again. There was so much to think about, all at once! Chaperons, engagement, preparations, wedding, _honeymoon_… It was enough to make her feel dizzy again! She was glad that this time they were sitting down, otherwise she might be running the risk of making a spectacle of herself.

"It is getting chilly out here. Are you cold?" he asked. It was obviously not the cold that was making her shiver slightly. First and foremost a perfect gentleman, he took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders before she'd said another word.

"Thank you," she murmured.

His jacket was a poor substitute for the feeling of his arms she had known earlier. How she wished they were standing up again, because then he would inevitably be holding her close! Nonetheless, it still felt like every part of her was surrounded by him. He placed one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

Guessing her thoughts, he touched the frown in her forehead.

"I think… we should deal with our worries and the rest of the world tomorrow when we are rested and enjoy the little time that we have together tonight.

"Mm mm," she agreed wholeheartedly, allowing herself to relax, even if only a little. "All right, I´ll try."

"You must be exhausted."

"I am — but I don´t think I´ll be able to sleep."

"You will."

He leaned forward towards her for another kiss. She met him half way.

"Maria?" he spoke finally, against her lips.

"Mmmm?"

"Before anything else… is there anyone I should go to, to ask permission to marry you?"

No, there wasn´t.

As far as she knew, she had no living relative, or, at least no one that she would care enough about to ask for a blessing. This time, however, the thought that she was completely alone in the world did not sadden her, because it was no longer true.

Looking up at him, wonder shinning in her eyes, she suggested, "Well, why don't we ask…"

They both answered at once.

"… the children?"


End file.
